Tabula Rasa
by scarylolita
Summary: Craig is hit by a car and wakes up with retrograde amnesia. Clyde is left to try and help him remember his life, but when feelings get involved things get a lot more complicated. Slash.
1. June: The crash

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **New SP chapter fic finally. All Clyde's POV, per usual.**

 **Warnings: noncon, abuse, suicide, drugs  
Side pairings: Kenny/Craig, Wendy/Stan, Token/Nichole, Bebe/Kyle**

* * *

For better or for worse, it all starts when you're born.

For my best friend, I feel like it was _worse_. I feel like everything about him is _worse_.

My best friend's name is Craig Tucker. His birthday is January 25th and he's an Aquarius. Everything about his star sign is wrong. He's not into humanitarian efforts. He's not friendly. He's not well-liked. He's not particularly smart or suave or well-mannered. The worst thing about him is his personality. The only good thing about him is the way he looks. That's probably why people tolerate him. He's a few inches shorter than me, plus slimmer and a lot paler. He has a bit of a Snow White thing going on, but he'd kick my ass if I said that out loud. He has thick, black hair, very blue eyes and a mole below his eye that Bebe calls a "beauty mark".

Once when we were at the mall a woman came up to us and asked Craig if he'd be interested in modelling. Naturally, he didn't bother dignifying that question with a response. He just walked away. I thought it was laughable – Craig, a model? Ha, that's a good one.

He's really good looking but he's a virgin. It's because he hates people and doesn't want to get near them. Unable to stifle my curiosity, I once asked him if he felt sexual attraction at all. He said he does, but he ignores it and sees masturbation as a chore to take care of his body. It's just something that needs to be done.

The only time I see him smile is when he's bullying other kids. He's mean to his parents, he's mean to his sister, he's mean to cops, teachers, friends. He's even mean to me. He treats everyone like they are the gum under his shoes or the dirt beneath his finger nails. He's a misanthropic asshole who has no heart.

Or, at least that's what I thought. That's what I spent years and years thinking and in a split second with just a few words he managed to change it all.

I screwed up last night when the two of us were sitting around at Stark's pond. It was late. We were sweating and half naked, trying to cool in the late summer wind. Everything was fine, quiet even, until, out of the blue, he tells me he has nothing to live for. All I could say was, "Fuck, do we really have to do this right now?" Because it was ruining my buzz and I didn't care that he felt sad. I'm sober now, and I do care, but it's too late. He's pissed. Craig fucking Tucker decided to confess something to me and I brushed him off.

I still remember the look of shock on his face when I said that. Craig isn't one for emotions, but I could read him easily. Part of me thought he was going to start crying, which is completely outrageous. I have a soft spot for crybabies because I, myself, am a huge crybaby. But he didn't cry. Nonetheless, everything about it was wrong. Part of me thought it might've been a joke. I've been Craig's friend since we were put in third grade together and I've never seen him cry in my life. Not even once.

One thing I do know is that Craig holds a very mean grudge and he does so effortlessly. He went home without saying another damn word to me. I don't think he's ever going to forgive me for this.

It's exam week now. High school will be over very soon. Many of our friends have grandiose plans, but not me. I work at the book depository. I'll probably work there forever. It's not a bad job. It's just kind of boring. Craig works at the pet shop. He'll probably work there forever, too. Animals are the only thing he seems to have a soft spot for. I think he likes them because they're not people.

We're all in the library now. Kyle Broflovski is cramming while Stan Marsh tries to keep up. Bebe Stevens is gossiping, not paying much attention to academics. Token Black is studious as ever while his girlfriend, Nichole, works on her cue cards. Kevin Stoley is rewriting his notes. Kenny McCormick is procrastinating while Eric Cartman joins him and Wendy Testaburger tries to keep them focused. Tweek Tweak is nowhere in sight. Typical.

Things changed in high school. Me and Bebe finally broke up and she started to date Kyle. They're still together. I think they make a much better couple than she and I did. There is chemistry. Stan and Wendy are still together. Of course. I doubt they'll ever break up, though they have a lot of dramatic fights. They're famous for it.

"I have Home Ec first," Kenny says out of the blue.

Cartman snorts and laughs. "Fag," he insults.

Wendy crosses her arms, giving him the stink eye. "I take Shop," she points out. "What does that make me?"

"Uh…" Cartman trails off, caught in his own trap. "Not a dyke…"

"What a save," she murmurs sarcastically, looking far from impressed. "You shouldn't use that word, you know."

By now, Cartman knows not to fight with Wendy – especially not when it comes to social justice. "So, uh," he scrambles to change the subject. "What the fuck do you do for a Home Ec exam?"

"It's basically a cook off," Kenny says with a snort.

"Useless tit," Cartman drones. "While you're busy baking cookies, the rest of us have to write real exams. That doesn't seem fair."

Kenny rolls his eyes. "Shut up, you fat shit. Home Ec isn't my only exam. Besides, cooking takes skill. It's an art!"

Honestly, I'm not fond of Kenny. I feel bad for him, sure, but I still don't like him. He's kind of sneaky and he strikes me as someone you can't really trust. I don't like that about him. Other people like him, but for the wrong reasons. Kind of like Craig. They like Craig because he's pretty. They like Kenny because his dad beats him and they think it'd be insensitive not to like him. I don't really know where I stand, but I doubt Kenny would like the idea of being on the receiving end of piteous affection. Then again, maybe he would. He strikes me as manipulative.

I ignore their back and forth and try to concentrate on my own studying. I stare down at the text book laid out in front of me, but nothing I read will sink in. I still can't stop thinking about Craig. He's not here. He'll probably show up last minute and pass all his classes with D's. That's what he's done every other year. He probably won't break that streak.

"What's up, dude?" Token asks me, looking up from his study notes for the first time all day. "You look distracted."

"Craig," is all I say.

Token rolls his eyes as I give him the answer he probably expected. "What did he do now?"

"Er, nothing, actually," I start. "This time it was me. I fucked up. _Badly_." I keep my voice low as everyone else continues to converse mindlessly.

Token leans closer. "What happened?" he asks.

"Me and Craig were kind of drinking a bit last night," I start, hoping Token isn't judging me for drinking the night before an exam. "Anyway, Craig wanted to talk about his feelings for, like, the first time ever… and I totally shut him down. Now he hates me."

Token looks thoughtful, nodding his head sagely. "You don't think he'll get over it?"

I shake my head. "It takes a lot for Craig to open up. He's never done it before. I bet the last thing he needed was for me to brush him off like that. Now he'll probably never try to open up again because I decided to be a tool."

Token sighs and says, "Okay, look, try not to think about it. Craig is… Well, to be blunt, he's a horrible person. He can't expect others to be at his beck and call when he's finally ready to stop fucking around."

No sympathy from Token.

I force a smile. "Dude, it's not like that… He's… He's not as bad as you think."

Bebe cuts in with a sharp cackle. I guess she was eavesdropping. "Oh, honey. You're blinded by all the love you have for him, but he's fucking evil. He's mean for no reason. He gets his kicks that way. Sometimes he'll manage to insult everyone in the room within moments of entering it."

"Maybe those are his bad days," I attempt to justify his behaviour, though I know there's nothing I can say.

Bebe laughs some more and rubs my arm. "If you insist, sweetie."

* * *

My first exam is for my Sociology elective. Craig is in that class, too. Just as I suspected, he shows up mere seconds before the exam starts and he's still in his pajamas. He's one of the first to finish but I have a feeling it's not because he knows the material, it's just because he doesn't care. He does enough to pass and then he quits.

When I see him get up, I start rushing and scribbling down bullshit answers. Then I follow him. I find him clearing out his locker, shoving junk into his backpack. When he sees me, his typical frown deepens and he quickens his pace.

"Dude…" I sigh. "Just talk to me."

"I thought I tried to," he retorts bitterly, refusing to even look at me. "But you wouldn't listen. God, men are all assholes. I fucking hate them all."

"You're a man," I point out before I can stop myself.

I don't know where his hatred comes from, but it's fucking fiery. He hates men. He doesn't particularly like women, either, but at least he doesn't see them as the embodiment of all evil. I think he just sees them as weak. I don't know where that kind of thinking comes from… especially since his mother is a feminist. It doesn't really match up. I thought she would have raised Craig that way. Then again, perhaps she tried. I don't really know why Craig thinks the things he thinks.

"And I'm an asshole," he states.

Well, at least he knows it…

He finishes emptying his locker and he tries to zip his bag up, but there's too much shit inside. With a frustrated hiss, he starts throwing old papers onto the floor to make room. When he can finally zip his bag up, he tosses it over his shoulder and turns away from me.

I follow him down the hallway and finally speak again. "I'm sorry," I say with as much sincerity I can muster.

"Don't care," he answers flatly, walking down the hallway.

"Talk to me," I plead.

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"Yes!" I try again and again.

Soon we exit the school grounds and only then does he decide to talk. He stops in his tracks and stares at me. "Y'know," he starts hoarsely, "I'm unhappy."

"What?" I croak.

"I'm _unhappy_!" he shouts, enunciating. "I've been unhappy for as long as I can remember! I'm struggling and it hurts to fucking get out of bed every morning! For once in my life, I decided to open up and tell someone. I chose you. I chose _you_! I thought you'd listen! I thought you'd understand! But _no_. You didn't want to. I was getting you down. I'm sad and all you could do was tell me how much you didn't want to help me. So, fuck you, Clyde! You don't know how fucking hard it was for me to get the words out! I thought I was going to fucking _choke_ on them, but I didn't… I got them out… only to have it thrown in my face. You didn't just disrespect me, you _embarrassed_ me!"

"Craig, wait –" I plead, but he cuts me off.

"NO! I'm _never_ going to forgive you!" he growls.

I've never seen him this angry before. I think I definitely fucked up beyond repair, but I can't bear the thought of losing a friend like this – especially not Craig. Sure, he's mean… but I feel like I need him. I need him and maybe it's all for selfish reasons. He's always been the most constant thing in my life, always there and never changing.

But I guess I'm a shitty friend. I never really knew him at all. I never knew he was suffering.

"Never?" I ask weakly. It's all I can manage to force out.

"Never!" he insists sharply before spinning around on his heel and leaving the school grounds. I don't hesitate to follow him, trying to talk some sense into him the entire time but he won't have any of it.

He keeps screaming at me to shut up. He raises his arms and clasps his hands over his ears, refusing to listen. Still, I keep following.

I suppose this is my fault. It doesn't matter that I was drunk off my ass. I should have still been a decent friend and listened to him.

I follow him out into the street and he's still ignoring me and I'm still trying to get his attention. In the middle of the road, he turns around and demands, "Stop following me, you asshole!"

"Craig –"

"No! I fucking hate you! Get it? I _HATE_ YOU!"

The rest happens in slow motion: Craig turns away from me and neither of us sees the truck until it's too late.

 _Crash._


	2. July: Awake but empty

**South Park ©Matt & Trey.**

 **Thanks for all the sweet reviews c: this fic will be 12 chapters plus an epilogue!** **Craig is totally OOC as hell, but for reasons. I'll go into it even deeper in later chapters. Enjoy~**

* * *

One month.

Craig has been asleep for one whole fucking month.

Somehow, it feels like even longer.

I've been crying about it a lot. Naturally. The doctors said they did everything they could and the rest is up to Craig. Sometimes when I'm visiting him I see his eyelashes fluttering. I wonder what he's dreaming about. I wonder if he's living some marvelous life in his head. Maybe he's stuck. Maybe he wants to be stuck. If he's sad, then maybe the things he's dreaming about are better than real life.

Laura said she saw him blink, but the doctors say it doesn't necessarily mean anything. They won't really let us get our hopes up because things don't look good. A month is a long time to be asleep.

I can't get the scene out of my head. I keep seeing the truck hit him. I keep seeing him get thrown across the street. I keep hearing the crunch of his bones breaking on impact. I keep hearing the tires shrieking and then the driver screaming, _"Oh, God! He came out of nowhere!"_

Because he did and the cops said it wasn't the driver's fault. Craig shouldn't have ran out into the street.

That pissed me off.

Some of the other students leaving the school gathered around to watch and stare and gawk.

That pissed me off even more.

I didn't react the way I thought I would. My heart was beating like a drum, but I was eerily calm. I pulled my cellphone out and I dialled 911 before even checking to see if Craig was still alive. As I spoke to the woman on the other line, I inched closer and closer. His chest was rising and falling, but his breathing was labored. He was in rough shape – bloody and bruised and undeniably broken.

Part of me knew this was my fault, too. I chased him into the street. I made him so angry that he was unable to pay attention to anything else.

I feel like the worst part about all of this is the reactions of the rest of the kids.

" _It's about time Craig got what he deserved."_

" _I hope Craig never wakes up."_

" _It's a shame Craig didn't just die."_

" _Craig made my life hell, he deserves this."_

Ouch. Harsh.

I bought a car and every day is the same. Every day I drive to the hospital and visit him, hoping he'll wake up so I can continue throwing apologies in his face. Now I have even more to apologize for. If he doesn't hear me out this time, I'll give in and I'll give him the space he wants.

I've been working out. It serves as the best distraction. It's a healthy distraction. It's better than lying around in my room and thinking about all the ways the accident could have been prevented. I feel like all I do is work and work out. I don't even see my friends much anymore. I'm too fucking busy. It's a good thing, though. I don't mind it. Distractions.

On my way home from work, I get a phone call. It's Laura.

"Hey, what's up?" I ask, hoping it's an update on Craig's situation.

She knows what happened. I couldn't keep the truth from her. So, she knows everything, but she doesn't blame me for it. She's so kind, I don't know why Craig refuses to see it.

 _"Craig is awake,"_ Laura reveals and I feel my heart skip a beat.

"I'm on my way," I tell her before hanging up my phone and running. There's no point in walking home just to get my car. I bolt down the street, moving as fast as my legs will allow. When I push through the doors of Hell's Pass I let out a deep breath and then try to collect myself. As I'm about to approach the front desk, I see Laura walking down the hallway. I move towards her and give her an expectant look, waiting for her to start to speak.

"He actually woke up last night," she confesses, "but we wanted some time with him before calling his friends over."

I nod my head. "That's understandable."

"And… there's something you need to know before you see him," she adds tentatively.

I frown at that, getting worried. "What is it? Is he okay? Did something go wrong?" I ask, questions piling out.

"He was really afraid when he woke up," she starts, letting out a breath before she continues to speak. "He just started screaming, like he had no idea where he was or what was happening. I was called in and he was having some sort of panicked fit... but the doctors calmed him down enough to make sense of it. Retrograde amnesia is what they're calling it."

After that, I feel myself zone out.

Craig has amnesia?

"Wait," I cut her off. "What does he remember?"

She lets out a solemn sigh. "He doesn't remember anything about himself or his life, Clyde. He didn't even know his damn name."

"Shit," I whisper.

"What you choose to tell him…" she starts, pausing. "That's your choice."

Without any more words, the two of us move down the hallway and around the corner. We stop in front of a room I assume belongs to Craig. Laura reaches for the door and we move inside. Craig is sitting up in bed while a doctor flashes a light into his eyes and asks him questions. There's a cast on his right arm and some bandages on his left arm. There are also some faint scratches on his face, but he appears to be healing. He's wearing one of those plain, light blue hospital gowns. It makes him look frail. The look doesn't suit him at all. I can see a bad case of road rash peeking from beneath the gown. It's all over his shoulders and probably on his back, too. It looks painful. It's a wonder he didn't crack his spine.

Next to Laura, I watch quietly as the doctor finishes Craig's check-up. When he leaves the room, Laura exits with him. I can hear faint murmurs, but I try not to listen. I turn my head towards Craig and, before I can help myself, I move towards his bedside and lurch forward. Throwing my arms around him I say, "Jesus Christ, you scared me."

"Uh," is all Craig responds with, patting me on the back. "Sorry?"

"It's, um," I move away and point to myself. "Clyde Donovan. I'm your best friend. We've been friends since we were really young." Our mothers met at a parent teacher meeting when we were in grade three, so playdates were frequent when we were kids. It's sad. All that history – gone. My eyes start watering because this is so fucking depressing. Still, as grim as it sounds, I feel like I'm being given a second chance. A chance to really fix things with him. "You don't remember me, huh?"

He looks genuinely sympathetic as he shakes his head. "I remember generic things about the world," he says, "but nothing about myself, my life or the people in it. I know the planets and the months and things like that." A pause. "Hey, if you're my best friend, you can help me remember things… right?"

"Yeah, of course," I promise him. I know there's immense amounts of pity in my gaze, but I can't seem to wipe it away.

"I must have been a horrible person," Craig murmurs offhandedly.

"Why do you say that?" I ask.

"No one came to visit me," he admits quietly. "There aren't even any get well cards. I must not have many friends. Maybe this is why I was hit by a car. What comes around goes around, right?"

"Yeah," I whisper. "I guess… I'm sorry."

I can't tell him what part I played in it. The words physically won't come out.

"No, I'm sorry," he says. "Well, I should be, but I can't really remember why."

"People _do_ like you," I offer. "You have friends."

But maybe I'm lying a bit. Even his friends think he's shit. Everyone apart from me.

"What are their names?" he asks.

"Token, Nichole, Jason, Kevin, Bebe, Tweek, Red and I guess Kenny," I list off the people who tolerate him. "I'll text them all, yeah? They probably don't even know you're awake. I think your mom only called me."

"Oh," he says.

Unsure if I'm allowed to even be using my phone, I take it out of my pocket and send a quick mass text to everyone. It's a vague message, simply saying: _Craig is awake. Come to Hell's Pass_.

Things are silent and a little tense as we wait around. It takes them a while to actually get here. They all probably took their sweet time. They pile in one by one and they all look uncomfortable, like they're trying to mentally prepare themselves for insults.

"Look how cautious everyone is being," Craig says, gaging all their reactions. "Well, I guess now would be a good time to say that I don't know who any of you are."

Silence.

"What?" Bebe asks, choosing to be the first to voice her confusion.

"Apparently I have amnesia," Craig states.

"Um, will your memories come back?" Bebe pries.

"Hard to say."

After another brief silence, I decide to introduce him to everyone. When the introductions are over, Kenny is the first to speak. "So…" he cuts in, moving closer to Craig's bedside. "You don't remember… like… anything?"

"No," Craig says.

Kenny's mouth twists into a smile that can't mean anything good. "Oooh."

Bebe raises an eyebrow at the other blond. "What the fuck are you smiling about?"

"Hey, Craig, when are you leaving this place?" Kenny asks him.

"Not sure," he responds, staring down at his cast. "This will be coming off soon… but until then, I'm out of commission."

"That's fine," Kenny says. "I'll be patient. Then you can make it up to me for beating me up."

"I did what?"

"You kicked the shit out of me and never said sorry!"

Craig is frowning. "Oh… Well, I'm sorry."

"That's okay," Kenny says smoothly. "I'm sure we can come up with a fun way for you to make it up to me."

Craig's lips part, but he doesn't respond. With a loud sigh, Bebe grabs Kenny by the back of his shirt and pulls him away. "Keep it on your pants, buster."

* * *

Even after the ice breaks, things are still tense and Craig seems to sense it. After a mere half an hour, he says he's tired. A blatant lie, but they seem relieved to go.

"That was terrible," Craig says once they're gone.

"I'm sorry," I tell him sincerely.

"I forget all their names already," he admits. "It'll probably take a while for me to get to know them all. Well, if they let me."

I decide to help him out. "Bebe Stevens was the pretty, blond girl with big boobs," I tell him. "I used to date her. She annoyed you. You'd say all me and her did was hump and we had no chemistry. Uh, the African-American dude was Token Black. He's really smart. His girlfriend was Nichole, the pretty African-American girl standing next to him. Tweek is the jittery guy. His parents own the local coffee shop where he works. Jason was the tall, buff guy who looks like he's on steroids and is about to 'roid rage. Kevin was the Chinese guy. Red was, of course, the girl with red hair. Her real name is Rebecca, but most people don't call her that. She used to have a crush on you, but you shut her down hard and told her she was stupid." I watch Craig's expression fall flat, which makes me feel guilty but I don't want to sugar coat things. "Uh," I continue, "Kenny was the blond guy who sorta hit on you."

Craig chuckles slightly and cuts me off, asking, "Yeah, what was up with that?"

"He's really horny and by the looks of things he doesn't discriminate between male and female as long as they're hot," I snort. "He flits back and forth between our group of friends and his. He kind of likes to be friends with everyone. Better watch out or he'll try to bed you. I guess he recovered from the bullying you did when we were kids."

"Bullying?" he questions.

I nod my head. "You were pretty mean to him, to be honest. For a while he was your special target. He used to be pretty small and malnourished because his parents are neglectful junkies, but he grew taller than you and you lost interest in making his life hell."

"Wow, I sounded horrible," Craig murmurs with a frown. "I take it I never had any relationships, then?"

"Kenny was the only guy fearless enough to get that close to you in the later years," I tell him. "You've never dated. I guess you're a kissless virgin."

"Hm," he muses. "I guess that's a good thing. If I ever had sex I'd actually want to remember it."

"Yeah," is all I say. I don't really know what else to tell him. "You were kind of misanthropic. You didn't want to go near anyone or let anyone near you… It was like you thought no one was good enough… Or maybe you just thought you weren't good enough. I don't know."

"Oh," he murmurs with a frown. "I sound like I was a major brat. How did you manage to stick around for so long?"

"I've known you for a long time," I say simply. "I guess I always had a soft spot for you, even when you acted out. I never stayed mad at you."

"You're talking in past tense like I'm not sitting right here," Craig says.

"I'm sorry…" I murmur.

He smiles a small smile, but says nothing more on the subject. It's almost strange to see and completely foreign. There are lots of things Craig Tucker doesn't do and smiling is one of them. He doesn't smile, he doesn't laugh and he most certainly doesn't cry. Or, maybe crying was just something he did alone. It's funny in a sad way. I feel like I didn't know Craig at all.

"I can't wait to get out of here," he murmurs out of the blue.

"When are they letting you leave?" I ask.

"Soon, probably," he says vaguely. "They want to run a few more tests."

"Understandable."

"Can you tell me about myself?"

I nod my head. "Um… We'll start with the basics. You're eighteen. Your birthday is January twenty-fifth. You were adopted. Your mother's name is Laura and your father's name is Thomas. You have a younger sister named Ruby. She's fourteen."

"Yeah," he cuts in. "I met them all before you arrived. They told me some of that stuff." He pauses and frowns. "Hey… Why was I such a horrible person?"

"You were sad," I tell him. "It was probably a lot more complicated than that, but you didn't ever talk about the way you felt. You just lashed out instead."

"Why was I sad?" he wonders.

"I'm not sure," I admit. "Maybe there was no reason at all. Sometimes people just get stuck."

"Hm," he muses, still frowning. "I'll try to be less difficult. I'll try not to be so silent in terms of my feelings."

"You were a really private person about every aspect of your life," I continue. "You didn't let people near you. Even in gym class you refused to shower or change in front of the other guys. You were really antisocial."

He smiles bitterly. "Maybe there is a part of me that's relieved I don't remember any of that."

He's different. He's so fucking different. I don't understand why or how. Maybe it's because he doesn't have all these shitty experiences anymore, the ones that shaped him so negatively. I don't really know what those experiences may have been, but maybe this is for the best.

"Yeah," is all I say.

* * *

When Craig finally leaves the hospital, I'm there every step of the way. He stares out the window for the entire ride home, not saying a word. When we pull up to his house, me and Ruby follow as Laura and Thomas show him where everything is.

Craig's bedroom is the last room. As we move to the back of the hallway, Thomas opens the door and Laura says, "This room is yours."

"It's so plain," he says in response, taking the first step inside.

"You liked it that way," I decide to add. "You liked simple things. Boring things."

"Hm," he muses, starting to look around.

We all watch him silently as he moves around. He makes a circle, walking past his dresser and desk and around past his bed and nightstand.

"We'll be in the kitchen if you need us," Laura adds.

Craig turns to her and nods as she walks off with Thomas. Ruby lingers, eying Craig with an unreadable expression on her face.

"What is it?" he asks, staring at her.

She shrugs. "I'm, uh, glad you didn't die," she says before walking off.

"Sentimental bunch we seem to be," Craig murmurs when she's gone.

I force a smile, stepping closer and sitting on the edge of his mattress. I watch as he continues to go through his things. He opens drawers, leafing through papers. He opens his closet, sifting through clothes.

"There's hardly any evidence of who lived here," he says, moving towards his desk again. He unplugs the laptop and then sits down next to me, opening it. "I don't know the password," he murmurs in realization as the screen shines in his face.

"It's your birthdate," I say, taking the laptop from him and typing in 0-1-2-5.

He smiles at me. "You knew everything about me, huh?"

I just chuckle, even though it's far from true.

He begins looking through his files and folders. There are a few tabs still opened from when he last used his computer. Before I can see what they are, he shuts the computer.

I raise an eyebrow at him, silently asking him what's wrong. He just shrugs it off, putting his laptop back on his desk and plugging it in again.

"I feel sticky," he admits. "I didn't shower before leaving the hospital, so I'm going to do that now. You don't have to wait around if you don't want."

"Do you want me to wait around?" I ask him. "Because if you want me to stay, I'll be happy to."

He smiles again. "Please, then."

I nod my head and watch as he hesitantly goes through his drawers, picking up a new change of clothing. When he's gone, I immediately stand up and sit at his desk. I open his laptop, typing in the familiar number combination and what I see makes me want to throw up.

 _10 most painless ways to die._

 _Information on suicide methods._

 _Guide: How to kill yourself._

 _Popular suicide._

My chest tightens and a lump forms in my throat. I feel my eyes start to burn, but I can't start crying. Craig would know. So, I take a series of slow, deep breaths and force myself to calm down. I close his laptop and sit back down on his bed, taking my phone out of my pocket. I play a game on it, trying to distract myself but all I can think about is Craig. What would have happened if he never got hit by that truck? Was he planning on dying after graduating high school? Was he in that much pain? How many times have I made it worse?

I close my eyes and take a string of deep breaths, trying to will away my need to cry. It hurts to think about it. I don't want to see him in pain like that ever again and I swear I'll do everything I can to protect him from it. Maybe it's stupid of me, but no one deserves that kind of pain.

I want to talk about this to someone, but there's no one I can possible bring it up with. Plus, I don't want to betray Craig's trust yet again. I've been fucking up a lot lately.

It doesn't take Craig long to shower. When he appears, his hair is damp and drippy. He's wearing red, plaid pajama pants and a black t-shirt.

"You look comfy," I say.

"I am!" he responds, jumping onto his bed. "I'm probably going to laze around for the next few days as I settle back in. I know I've been asleep for a really long time, but I still feel tired for some reason."

"Were you dreaming, do you think?" I pry.

He wrinkles his nose in thought for a moment before shrugging. "I don't even remember." He stands in front of his desk, blocking my view from his computer as he opens it up. He types his password in and I can tell he's closing the tabs. When he's finished, he sits back on the bed, bringing his laptop with him.

"Do I have any social media sites?" he asks me.

"You have Facebook," I tell him.

He types in the URL and is immediately brought to his profile page.

"Here we go," he murmurs, scrolling through.

He only has one profile picture and it's a couple years old. I'm the one who took it. It's of me and him. I have a big grin and major drunken flush on my face. We were partying at Token's house a couple years ago. I whipped out my phone, threw an arm around Craig and tried to take a selfie with him, but he covered his face in his hands. I guess he's camera shy… or maybe he just didn't like the way he looked. It's funny, though. Everyone else likes it. It's the only reason people put up with him. Then again, maybe that's why he was spiteful.

He clicks on the picture.

"Sixty-three likes," I tell him, pointing at the number. "See? People _do_ like you."

He frowns. "But do they like me for me?"

"Of course," I say, even though it's yet another lie. "What else would it be?"

Offhandedly, he asks, "I'm a good looking guy, right?"

"More than," I say before I can stop myself. "No homo, but you're pretty cute."

He chuckles at that. "People like it about me, right? I mean, it sucks but… attractiveness gets you things in life."

"Yeah," I relent. "People have a habit of associating goodness with prettiness, so no matter how shitty you acted there were still people who liked you because they liked the way you looked."

Craig sighs. "That's such a bad feeling…"

"I'm sorry," I tell him, feeling sympathetic.

"There isn't much on my page," he says, continuing to lurk himself.

"I made you get Facebook," I admit. "You weren't really into the idea of social networking, but I insisted. I made your account."

He makes a humming sound as he looks through all the pictures he's tagged in. Most of them were taken by me, Bebe, Red or Nichole. A few were taken by Token and Tweek or other random kids we went to school with. He's giving the middle finger in half of them, I swear. In the other half, he looks oblivious of the fact that he was being photographed.

Last summer we all gathered at Stark's Pond and got drunk. Craig overdid it and ended up hurling in the water. Cartman took pictures of him and put them on Facebook for a kick. Somehow, he still managed to look mildly graceful while puke was shooting out of his mouth. Craig untagged himself, but Cartman refused to take them down. I'm not going to bother telling him about that.

Craig chuckles at the pictures. "Man, look at the face on me," he says. "I look moody."

"You _hated_ having your picture taken," I reply. "You're really photogenic, though."

"Hm," he muses. "Hey, do you have any pictures of me on your phone or anything? I want to see all that I can."

"Uh, yeah, I think so," I say, pulling it out and opening my photo album. Silently, I scroll and he leans over my shoulder to watch. In all honesty, I have a lot of pictures of Craig on my phone. Probably too many. There were times I'd see him and I just couldn't help but take a picture.

"Wow," he says. "There are lots."

"This one is nice," I say. It was taken last year during the 4th of July festival. He knew I was taking it, but for once he didn't complain. He just forced a small smile and glanced to the side. Maybe it was the alcohol he consumed beforehand and the positive atmosphere, but he seemed less moody. "You were usually pretty sour," I add, "but you seemed okay that day. You know… you used to curse a lot, but since you woke up you haven't said one cuss word… It's weird."

"Should I curse more?" he asks me lightly.

"No," I say with a shrug. "It was just something you did a lot. You did it to me, to your parents, to teachers and other authority figures…"

"Oh, wow," he murmurs. "Or… should I say oh, fuck."

I can't help but laugh. "It sounds weird when you say it like that. It sounds so forced. I think swearing used to come naturally to you. It was like second nature or an impulse."

"Hm," he muses. "I guess with all my ignorance I just feel childish now."

"It'll pass when you get your memories back," I tell him.

" _If_ …" he corrects me. " _If_ I get my memories back."

"Yeah," I relent in a mumble.

I'm worried. I'm worried he'll get his memories back and hate me again. I'm worried he won't get his memories back and his ignorance will get him in trouble. When I think about having to get to know him again, it makes me kind of sad. It feels like so much has been erased and I'll never be able to get it back. It's sobering in the worst of ways.

I stay with Craig until it gets late, and then I bid him a goodnight and make my way home. I'd like to spend the night with him, but it's not something we've ever done. He probably wouldn't be into it, but I feel clingy as hell. I just keep seeing his body hit the pavement. _Smack_ and _crack_. I don't want to come that close to losing him ever again.

* * *

After work the following day, I go to Tweek Bros and hang around Tweek during his break. I do this sometimes. He asks questions about Craig and every word that comes out of his mouth is cautious, but not fearful. I answer honestly and part of me wonders if people will prefer Craig this way. Then they won't have to be scared when they're near him. They won't have to feel like they're constantly waiting for him to jump down their throats. He won't be a bomb waiting to go off. He'll just be Craig – a good natured and smiley guy.

"Craig was a pretty scary person," Tweek says with a shrug. "Everyone is happy he lost his mind. People didn't want him to wake up, but I guess, to them, this is the next best thing. It's kind of coincidental. I guess Craig needed this."

Tweek still freaks out sometimes, but he's mellowed out a lot since we were kids. He's still jittery, but he no longer shakes and moans every five seconds. He does a lot of drugs and has a lot of indiscriminate sex to calm himself down. It's kind of gross, but I won't tell him his coping mechanisms are wrong. It's not my business. He's changed a lot since we were young. He still wears his hair the same way, but sometimes it falls in his face. He got tall and lanky. Around junior year he shot up like a bean sprout. He has major bags under his eyes and his skin is pretty pasty. He's crazy, but there's something endearing about him. Everyone sees it.

"So fucking cruel," I mutter.

"Craig was cruel," Tweek points out. "He was really cruel… He was an abusive friend. To you, to me, to Token, Bebe, Red, Nichole… so on, so on. We were good to him and he was never good to us."

"I know," I groan. I don't want to admit it, but I know it's true.

"We all got kind of sick of it last year and started to keep our distance," he continues. "You were the only one who really stuck by his side. The rest of us didn't want to get close to him. I mean… there was no point in trying. He'd just tell us off for no reason. Just because he felt like it. Just because he felt shitty about himself and had to compensate to make himself feel bigger and badder."

I nod my head lightly. "What about you, then? Do you hope he stays this way?"

"Yes," Tweek admits without guilt. "There were times I hated him so fucking much. We hung out, yet we'd use each other as punching bags. He'd always start it, but I couldn't just let him hit me, right? So, I'd retaliate. Then I grew stronger. I had the upper hand. He didn't like that."

"You hurt him," I assume, knowing I'm right.

"Yeah," Tweek confirms. "I beat the shit out of him. He just wouldn't chill out. I think he wanted me to beat him up." He shrugs, scratching the tip of his nose. "He was fucked up. I mean, so am I… but we're on different levels of fuckery."

"Yeah," I say with a sigh. "Jesus Christ. He never told me about that."

"Why would he?" Tweek snorts. "You would have wanted to talk about it and Craig hated to talk. My relationship with him was a lot different than yours. Everyone had a very specific relationship with Craig. There was the relationship he let them have and the relationship that they would have liked. Bebe and Nichole would have happily played the carers. They would have offered him advice about girls and advice about other things, but he demonized them every damn time they worried about him. So, they grew spiteful. Token and Kevin would have played the protective friend, kind of like you. Craig didn't let them. Craig pushed and pushed and pushed until they just gave up. Red wanted to be the one to love him, but he transformed her into the annoying girl who wouldn't go away. He made her feel bad about the feelings she had for him and that's probably one of the nastiest things a guy can do to a girl. I think the only reason Jason stuck around is because he was almost as terrible as Craig. They probably got off on each other's shittiness. I guess I was the rival. We never quite turned friends. Craig didn't let that happen, though I would have liked it. And then there is you. You took the most abuse out of all of us because you wouldn't back off no matter how hard he pushed. He tolerated you the most. Who knows why? Maybe it meant something. Still, we can all start over now. We can all try to have the relationships we would have liked to have. We can all just… be nice to each other."

"Sounds like a dream," I say with a bitter smile. I want to tell him he's wrong, but I know I can't because he's so fucking right. He hit the nail right on the head.

"I know," Tweek says with an incredibly forced laugh, "but hey, if God is real then he or she is definitely giving us a chance to make things better. Not just for us, but for Craig, too. I can't imagine he was happy."

"He wasn't," I confess. "He was really sad. He told me."

Tweek looks surprised at that. "He told you?"

I nod my head. "He told me. We were drunk and he said he had no reason to live… and I pushed him away because I wasn't in the mood to talk about serious things. Fatal mistake. He didn't forgive me. I chased after him, throwing apologies in his direction. I ended up chasing him into the street and he got hit by a car."

Tweek's eyes widen. "So… that's what happened."

"Yeah," I say, hating myself. "That's what happened."

It feels good to tell someone else about it. Now Laura and Tweek know. Someday I'll tell Craig. He might hate me, but then again, he might not.

* * *

It's still pretty early. It's not even 6PM yet. So, before going home, I drop by Craig's house. I knock and he answers, permanent smile in place. Part of me wants to reach forward and wipe it off his face because it just looks so fucking out of place… but I can't do that. I want him to be the way he was because then it will mean I didn't fuck up as bad.

I can't help but imagine what would have happened if I didn't push him away. Would we have had a heart to heart? Would I have been able to help him? I don't fucking know.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Watching home videos," he says with a laugh, inviting me in.

When we enter the living room I see Laura in front of the television. Craig sits down with her and I take the recliner.

On screen, I see Craig as a child. He's probably three or four. He's so damn tiny.

"You were a beautiful child," Laura says with a laugh. "We always got compliments when we took you out. People love children and you were especially cute."

Craig smiles at that.

"Was this before Ruby was born?" I ask.

Laura nods her head. "Craig was four here. I was probably around five months pregnant. My hormones were a mess. I was lucky to have Craig. He was a very low maintenance child." She chuckles and adds, "He would just sit with me on most days. He'd get very interested when I felt Ruby kick."

"Aw," I coo and Craig is just laughs.

"You're probably in some of these videos, Clyde," Laura says.

"Wow, really?" I wonder.

We continue watching. In chronological order, I feel like I'm watching Craig grow up. Craig, on the other hand, is probably trying to soak up the unfamiliarity of it all. He's reliving a life he doesn't even remember. I can't imagine what that must feel like.

After an uncomfortably graphic birthing video, Ruby is born. Laura is holding her and talking to her while Craig looks on with wide, childish eyes. Thomas points the camera at him and asks, " _Do you want to hold your new baby sister?"_ Craig looks scared and shakes his head saying, " _She's too small. I'll break her_."

The videos are intimate. I feel like I'm taking a peek at the parts of Craig I never got to see growing up – Craig meeting Ruby for the first time in the hospital, Craig flying a kite, Craig playing with his old guinea pig, Craig in the bath playing with little toy sharks, Craig learning how to read… All these little moments I'd never get to see because Craig probably wouldn't have found them important enough to tell me about. Then again, even if he did find them important he would have kept it all to himself.

He seemed to be a pretty good-natured kid. It really makes me wonder what happened to cause such an intense personality shift.

"Oh, here you are, Clyde," Laura says a few minutes later.

"Oh, I remember this!" I exclaim, watching as I appear on screen.

It was Craig's eighth birthday. In the footage I'm young and I still have some baby fat. By then, Craig was already turned into a pretty sour kid. I remember this night vividly. None of us would shut up and it made Craig angry. He was sensitive as hell to loud sounds and he ended up hiding away in his room for the rest of the party.

He used to do this thing where he'd hide under his bed. He knew his parents couldn't fit and wouldn't be able to force him out. That night I tried to coax him out, but he wouldn't budge. So, instead, I just lied there with him.

The videos grow progressively more depressing. Little Craig has many temper tantrums and fights a lot with Ruby. He turns into the picturesque version of an out-of-control child from _Nanny 911_.

I glance away from the screen and look at Craig. He's not smiling anymore. He looks tense. Laura seems to sense this, too, because she looks at her watch and says, "I should cook supper. We can finish watching the videos another day."

Craig simply nods his head as she turns the television off and leaves the room. He watches her go and when she's gone he stares at me. "I haven't showered today," he says. "So, I'm going to… but, um, stick around, okay?"

I nod. "Sure."

He disappears a moment later and I move into the kitchen, sitting at the table as Laura cooks.

"Can I ask something?" I question.

"Sure," she responds, turning around to stare at me.

"Craig seemed like a normal kid," I start, shrugging. "Why'd he change?"

Laura smiles bitterly. "He saw something he didn't understand and it upset him," he says before pausing. "No… I guess upset isn't the right word. I feel like, in a way, it ruined him… No, that's not the right word either. I guess it changed him. It changed him and shaped him negatively."

I feel my lips part and my eyebrows draw together. "What, um… What happened?" I pry gently.

"Every family has a black sheep," she starts off with a slow sigh. "In our family, that black sheep was my sister and her husband. He was a vile man, but he could put on a good face. I had no idea what kind of person he was until it was too late." She lets out another breath, as if it's a painful memory to talk about. "Ruby was sick with pneumonia and we couldn't care for Craig properly. Thomas was at work all the time and I couldn't do it on my own, so we sent him to live with my sister in Denver for the week. It was summer so he wasn't going to be missing out on school. Thomas drove him up after work and helped him get settled in. I didn't know it, but I had just signed Craig up for a week of abuse. My sister… I don't want to call her weak… but I am still so fucking angry at her. She could have tried to take my son out of that damn house, but she didn't. Instead, she just let him suffer with her at the hands of that asshole husband of hers."

My throat goes dry and I'm scared to find out more. "He hurt Craig…?"

Laura nods solemnly. "He was a sick man. To hit a child… you have to be sick. I knew he was odd, but I didn't think he was a bad person."

"It's not your fault," I offer softly.

"One night things got loud and a neighbour called in a noise complaint," she finishes airily. "The police came and made the arrest, but it was too late for my sister. Craig saw it happen. I was called down to a hospital in Denver. Craig wouldn't talk about it, but he was hurt badly and he was so, so scared." Her voice breaks and she closes her eyes. "The crime scene was messy. I didn't want them to spare any details. I wanted to know what Craig saw. He assaulted my sister before strangling her to death." She pauses and corrects herself, "No, she wasn't assaulted… she was raped. He raped her and he killed her and that's what Craig saw. The cops arrived after a neighbour's noise complaint. They found Craig under the bed in the guest room."

"Oh," I say hoarsely. I don't want to know any more.

"It kills me to think about what he went through while in that god damn house," she whispers. "I think he grew to hate us for it. He spited Ruby for getting sick and he spited me and Thomas for sending him away. He was there for five days, but being so afraid probably made it feel like an eternity."

"He never told me…" I murmur. "He never told me any of it."

But if I think back, it makes sense. When I first saw Craig sitting there in homeroom, he had faint cuts and bruises on his face. They looked like they were in the process of healing, but I could tell someone beat him bad. I never asked. I just thought it was from fighting with other kids because that was something he did often.

I suppose I understand now why he thought men were vile and women were weak. It's stupid and untrue, but it's something Craig insisted.

"Please, whatever you do, _please_ don't tell him," Laura whispers.

"I won't," I croak.

"I love that he talks to me now," she says. "I love that he'll let me show him affection. He doesn't run away from me anymore. Perhaps I'm being overprotective, but I feel like I got my child back."

"Yeah," I respond softly.

"You must feel relieved, too," she adds.

"I do," I admit.

Before either of us can say anything more, we hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Craig appears in the doorway with wet hair and pajamas. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," I echo.

"So, Clyde, will you be staying for dinner?" Laura asks me.

"Sure," I accept with a gracious glance.

After that, me and Craig retreat upstairs, settling on his mattress.

"You were a fuckin' cute kid," I tell him.

He smiles, looking like he knows it to be true. "I was, huh? I'm really glad I got to watch those videos. I feel like I learned a bit about myself."

"Hell, I learned a bit about you, too," I chuckle. "You're adjusting really well to everything. I'm kind of surprised."

"I'm just trying to go with the flow and not worry myself," he admits. "Hey," he adds with a slight laugh. "I was wondering something. You're my best friend, right? We've known each other for a long time?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "What's up?"

"When I was showering the other day I was looking at my body and I have a few scars," he starts. "Do you know what they might be from?"

"Um, maybe…" I offer stupidly. "I can, uh, look if you want… No homo."

"All right," he accepts, looking humored. We sit on the mattress together and he starts rolling up the leg of his pants. "Here," he points to a jagged line on his shin.

I wince. "You were fighting with a kid named Stan Marsh a couple years ago. You got the upper hand and he was on the ground, but he grabbed a rock and got you in the leg."

"Ouch," is all Craig says, rolling his pant leg back down. "How about this one?" he asks, rolling up his sleeve and pointing to an indented scar.

"Ah, my dog bit you," I say with a sympathetic laugh. "We were arguing and he got protective of me. He bit you because he thought you were threatening me, I guess."

"Aw," he laughs. "Well… that's almost nice, I guess. I should probably not ask any more questions. It seems like all of my scars are probably brought on by me acting like an idiot."

"Sorry, dude." I give him a sympathetic smile and he smiles back, shrugging his shoulders. It's strange. Craig wasn't a smiley kid, but at least he seemed normal and even tempered. He changed a lot when we were growing up, but all of that disappeared. Now he seems normal again. He's the way he was in those videos of him as a baby. He's the way he was before things got bad. He's lighter.

"I'm going to start working again next week," he says out of the blue.

"Nervous?" I ask.

"A bit," he admits. "I don't know how I even was able to keep a job since I'm not a people person… I keep wondering if I should start apologizing to everyone?"

"You don't have to," I say. "You don't truly know what you're apologizing for, y'know? But if it'll make you and them feel better, then go for it."

"I'm just thinking of them," he responds. "People seem genuinely scared of me. I want to show them that I'm not going to rip their heads off at every word that leaves their mouths."

"Yeah," I sympathize.

I guess I can understand that. If I were in his position, I'd probably do the same. It can't feel too good knowing people are scared of you, especially when you don't know much else about yourself. It doesn't reflect well.


	3. August: A series of strange events

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

* * *

I invite everyone over to my place for drinks since my dad is away on a business trip. I call up Kenny and pay his brother, Kevin, to buy us liquor. Naturally, that means I have to invite Kenny. I'd rather not since I'm not particularly fond of him… but it's only fair.

Craig comes over early and we hang out a bit before everyone else starts arriving.

"Nervous?" I ask him.

"As always," he says with a tight laugh.

Around eight, everyone piles through the front door. We all sit in the living room, chatting and watching Netflix. Kenny flirts with Craig a lot and, much to my surprise, Craig flirts back. It's weird to see him humor those kinds of intentions. Then again, maybe he just likes the fact that he's getting positive attention from someone who isn't me.

Bebe leans into me and quietly asks, "Is Craig gay?"

"He's kidding," I say flatly.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Bebe sing-songs.

And for some reason, that makes me damn nervous.

* * *

Craig is a hit. They love him. Bebe and Nichole said he was sweet while Tweek, Kevin and Token said he seemed chill. Red's old crush has been set ablaze and Jason said he got boring but I think he just misses having someone to reign terror with.

Apart from all of that, he kept his cool while drinking. He didn't overdo it. He got a little chattier as the hours passed, but everyone seemed to enjoy what he had to say. He wasn't mean or anything.

It's morning now. I wake up on the recliner and as soon as I open my eyes I spot Craig lying on the sofa with Kenny. Kenny has his arm draped over him and the two of them look so fucking peaceful. I guess it's a good thing. It's good Kenny can put the past behind him and move the fuck on.

Craig was vile. I can't deny that. He was worse than Eric Cartman when it came to Kenny. "Poor Boy" was just one of many insults. I remember one day in particular. Class had just ended and the buses were late. Kenny was standing there in that little orange parka he used to wear. Craig and Jason decided to gang up on him for absolutely no reason at all. "Why do you hide away in there?" he asked. "Is it because you're ugly?" Kenny tried to fight back, but he was small and malnourished. Jason shoved Kenny first and then the two of them just started kicking the shit out of him.

Kenny started crying. It was inevitable. He was so fucking tiny I'm surprised they didn't break him. Me and Token tried to pry Craig and Jason off of him while Cartman, Kyle and Stan helped their friend up. I felt so fucking sorry for him. I wanted to smack Craig and ask him what the fuck he was thinking, but I didn't. Craig was always so damn empty, I knew nothing I said would have registered or brought out a guilty response.

Craig was one of the tallest kids and he took advantage of his size. Jason was tall, too, but apart from being tall he was also thick. Definitely big boned. Some things are different now. I feel like much of it has become the opposite of what it was when we were kids. Kenny grew up. He's tall – a lot taller than Craig. He's probably almost six feet tall while Craig stopped at a mere 5'5". Jason, on the other hand, is well over six feet and buff as fuck. He's probably one of the strongest kids in South Park.

I think Craig's attitude got even worse when he stopped growing. We all zipped right past him in height and muscle. As bad as it sounds, I'm glad. I'm glad he stayed smaller. He's easier to subdue when he explodes. Then he can't hurt people.

He stopped starting fights when we were sixteen, but even after that there were times he'd try awful hard to stir the pot. I think the last fight he got in happened last year. Craig egged on some guy at a party we crashed in Cherry Creek and ended up getting bitch slapped. I grabbed him pretty quickly and we ran off. He got mad at me for it and insisted he could handle himself. We both knew he was full of shit. He's always so full of shit. I think he was just in a masochistic mood.

I force myself to stand up, finally. When I do, I move towards where Craig is lying with Kenny and as I'm about to shake him awake, I hesitate. I'm being stupid. Craig probably wouldn't even want me to wake him up. He looks comfortable.

So, instead, I leave the room and wander into the kitchen where I see Bebe, Token, Kevin, Tweek, Nichole, Red and Jason. Tweek, Red and Jason are drinking coffee at the table while Bebe stands in front of the stove and Nichole and Token chop vegetables.

"No hangovers?" I ask, sauntering into the room.

Bebe snorts back a laugh. "Me, Token, Kevin and Nichole are all right…" she says before pointing to Tweek, Red and Jason. "Those three assholes are far from it. So, how's our two sleeping beauties?"

"Dead to the world," I say, sitting with Jason, Red and Tweek.

Red pouts. "Craig seems to like Kenny… in a gay way."

Bebe laughs again. "What's not to like? Kenny is hot, tall and tanned with the bluest eyes in the world. He's got the face of a beach angel. _Everyone_ has a soft spot for those kinds of pretty looks."

My eyes are brown. Like mud or dirt. Craig has blue eyes like Kenny. Blue, like the sky or the ocean – nice things, unlike mud and dirt.

"I guess," I say begrudgingly.

She's probably right.

"Craig is pretty, too," Red murmurs thoughtfully.

"Yeah, they'd be a really attractive couple," Bebe says.

"They shouldn't rush into anything," I mutter, adding my own opinion on the matter.

Bebe smiles a small smile. "I'm sure they won't."

After a little while, Bebe, Token, Nichole and Kevin finish making a lavish breakfast and we eat. Well, Jason, Red and Tweek just nibble a bit. Halfway through, Tweek makes a quick escape to the bathroom. Poor guy.

A little while later Craig and Kenny finally appear. Their movements are groggy and it doesn't take a genius to see that they're a bit spaced out.

"How are your heads?" Bebe asks.

"I feel okay," Craig says.

"I feel like road kill," Kenny moans.

"You always overdo it!" Bebe scolds.

* * *

The rest of the morning goes by without a hitch. Craig remains soft-spoken, but he still socializes and speaks when spoken to. Around noon, we begin to disperse. I offer to walk Craig home and Kenny ends up tagging along.

"So, last night was fun," he says.

"Yeah, it was," Craig agrees, glancing up at him.

I watch them from the corner of my eye and I can't help but wonder what part of the night they're referring to. I saw them talking, but that's it. Part of me wants to know what they were talking about, but I'd never pry. It's really not my damn business.

I guess I'm being a little selfish. I feel like, in a way, I got Craig back. Now I don't want to share. I guess that's stupid because Craig isn't a toy.

"So, hey," Kenny starts again. "Do you have a cellphone? You should gimme your number."

"I did, but apparently it was crushed when I got hit," Craig says with a frown. "I'd give you my house number if I knew it."

Kenny immediately glances at me. "What's his house number?" he asks, whipping his phone out.

I want to groan loudly, but I don't. Instead, I just tell him off the top of my head. "It's 555-6526."

Kenny nods, typing it into his phone. "Cool," he says before pocketing his phone again. "Hey, I'll call you later, but I gotta run now!" He waves to me and Craig before darting down the road. I watch as Craig's eyes linger and it kind of worries me because it's far too soon for a thing like this.

"So, what's up?" I decide to talk.

Craig shrugs. "I'm just trying to engrain everything in my head. The doctors said I might forget new things."

I frown at that. "Will that be a concern, like, for the rest of your life?"

"No, just in the start… but still…" he trails off, shrugging. "I don't want to forget any of this."

I nod my head. "Do you want your memories back?"

I smiles bitterly. "I'm not really sure, to be honest. Part of me does because I think it would be easier… but part of me doesn't because I know people hated me and I was horrible. I don't want to get my memories back and then turn into a bad guy again."

"Yeah," I murmur quietly.

I don't want that either.

When we reach Craig's house, he asks me inside. Naturally, I accept the offer. Laura and Thomas greet us while Ruby simply grunts at us. She seems invested in the television.

We move upstairs and into Craig's room. Since we're alone again, part of me wants to mention the stuff about suicide I saw in his internet history… but I don't know how to bring it up.

"What is it?" he asks. He probably senses that something is wrong.

"Look…" I start awkwardly, "I know about the searches you were doing on google… about suicide…"

He lets out an audible sigh, sitting down on his bed. "Right, that…"

I sit down next to him. "How do you feel?" I ask him. "Honestly, how do you feel? Sad?"

"I guess the way I feel is situational," he admits. "When I woke up, I was really confused… I mean, I still am… but I wasn't sad. I guess I am now, but it's still situational. People don't like me. I didn't like me, either. I wanted to die. I was mean to my parents, my friends, my sister… It's a lot to take in."

"Yeah," I say quietly. "I'm sorry. I wish I could help."

He shrugs. "You do help. You're good to me and you pay attention."

"Everyone seemed to like you last night," I add. "They said so."

"Really?" he wonders.

I nod my head, insisting, "Yeah, they told me! They think you're great. Well, apart from Jason… but he just misses having someone to wreak havoc with."

"Oh," Craig laughs.

"So, how about you?" I change the subject slightly. "What did you think of everyone?"

"They all seem really nice," he says simply. "I hope I can redeem myself."

"I think you have," I tell him.

* * *

And life goes on. The week continues to pass and part of me wants Craig to call me, but he doesn't. I guess I'm getting clingy. He's probably doing stuff with his family. I bet they're all trying to make up for lost time. I know Laura and Thomas are probably really happy to see Craig acting so fucking sweet. Ruby is probably happy, too, because fuck knows he used to love to mouth off at her.

I work a lot and bum around with Kevin, Token and Nichole. We all go to the gym and then we get lunch afterwards. It's a bit of a ritual. I listen to them talk about their future goals and university plans. I haven't applied to any universities. Neither has Bebe, Tweek, Red or Craig… or Kenny, for that matter. Next month, things will be a lot different. Lots of people will be leaving town to embark on something a lot more exciting. I can't help but wonder who I'll lose touch with. It's inevitable, right? It's hard to keep friends forever, especially when you grow up.

After my latest shift, I go to Tweek Bros and get a latte. I sit down in the corner and Tweek decides to take his break and join me. He sits across from me and smiles lazily, but he doesn't say anything. He's never the first to speak. It's like that with him. He's comfortable with the silence until you're ready to talk. He must know I have a lot on my mind.

"I think I like Craig," I confess for the first time. I'm reasonable enough to see that it's likely why I'm so envious of Kenny. I won't bother denying any of it. That'd be fruitless.

Tweek nods his head thoughtfully before perching his elbows on the table and putting his chin in his palms. "That's not surprising. Lots of people end up falling for their best friends… But is it recent? Do you only like the new and improved Craig Tucker, or did you like the old one, too?"

What a mouthful. I let out a sigh and admit, "I'm honestly not sure. Sometimes I think I liked him for a long time but I just denied it. I mean, why else would I stay by his side? We were best friends, yeah, but he was so fucking awful. Maybe there was more… and maybe it's unhealthy and stupid of me to have stayed… but I can't change that now. I always found myself admiring him – the way he looked. I'd always feel so fucking satisfied when I'd get a smile out of him. I'd literally feel it in my stomach."

Tweek nods his head some more. "Sounds like it runs deeper than just a little crush. At least you know it's not shallow attraction."

"Damn." I let out a groan. I don't want to feel this way, especially not for a volatile guy like Craig who is prone to tragedy.

"Are you going to tell him?" Tweek asks.

"I don't know," I admit.

"You should decide quickly," Tweek says warningly. "I think there are other people who might try and get to him first and they might succeed. Right now, I think Craig will latch onto the people who give him positive attention. He wants to be wanted."

"Yeah," is all I say. I wrinkle my nose, but none of it surprises me… and of course Tweek would know all of this. He seems to know everything. He's quiet. He listens.

"What now?" Tweek wonders, staring at me with his big eyes.

"I'll go see him later," I say with a shrug. "Then… I'll see how I feel and I'll play it by ear."

Tweek nods. "For the record, I'm rooting for you."

I smile at him. "Thanks."

* * *

I go home and shower and put on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before stepping into my sneakers. Then I jog down the street. It takes me about a minute to reach Craig's house. I ring the doorbell and Thomas lets me in with a smile. "Craig is in his room," he says knowingly.

I smile back and thank him before kicking off my sneakers and running upstairs. I knock before letting myself in. Craig is sitting on his bed with a book in his hand. He's wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of short, tight boxer briefs. "Hey!" he greets me, putting the book on his nightstand.

"Hey," I echo, offering him a smile. He seems to be in a good mood, which is relieving. "Whose shirt is that?"

It's too big to be his. It's grey and it's too long on him. Plus, I know Craig's closet pretty well and this isn't in it.

"It's Kenny's," he confesses a second later. "He spent a few nights here and left some of his things. It's, uh, comfortable… so, I ended up sleeping in it."

"Ah," I nod my head. "So, you've been seeing a lot of him lately?"

"Yeah, a bit," he admits. "He says his parents fight a lot, so I said he could stay here whenever he wanted or needed."

I nod again and move into the room before sitting with him on his bed. "So, what's been up? How's work?"

"It's all right, but kind of mundane," he says with a shrug. "I have a date this weekend," he adds, looking excited about it.

Fuck.

"Oh, for real?" I ask. I try not to sound disappointed, but I'm surprised he found someone this fast. "Who is it? Do I know her?"

He pauses, staring at me with a blank expression. "Now I don't want to tell you…"

"What? Why?"

"Because you assumed it was a girl," he states.

Oh…

Oh.

OH.

"Oh!" I finally say aloud. "Well… shit. Sorry, dude. I guess I shouldn't have done that… Um, it's Kenny, huh?"

I fucking know it's Kenny. I don't know why, but the entire thing is bothering me. I can't help but wonder if this is one of the things Craig was upset about in the past – his sexuality. I can understand why. It can be hard to deal with, especially in a butt crack town like South Park.

Damn it. Maybe I should have said something sooner. Maybe I would have actually had a chance.

"Yeah…" he shrugs. "So, I guess I like guys."

I nod my head, unsure what to say in support. "Guys are… pretty cool," I say stupidly.

He laughs at my blatant awkwardness. "You like girls, huh?"

"Yeah," I admit with a shrug, "but I guess I can't say I'm completely _against_ the idea of being with a guy. I get that feelings can't really be controlled and you don't really fall in love with the thing between someone's legs, y'know?"

"Yeah, I know," he says, smiling slightly. "What kind of guy would you see yourself with?"

I don't know if he's trying to tease me a bit, but I answer nonetheless and I don't even have to put any thought into it. "I think I'd want a pretty guy. He would probably be a little smaller than me. I like having muscles, but I wouldn't want to date a guy with muscles. Maybe it'd make me insecure," I pause and laugh at myself. "Um, I like dark hair. I don't know. If I had to make up an ideal guy in my head I'd say: short, slim but not scrawny, black hair. I like all those characteristics." And then I realize that I just described Craig. I quickly add, "Personality wise… I'm really not sure. I think I'd probably look for a guy who was like the girls I've dated… someone who is easy going but will call me on my shit, 'cause I get a bit whiny sometimes."

Craig nods his head slowly. "That was elaborate."

"Well, you asked," I remind him.

His smile widens. I feel like he's always smiling lately. I don't know if it's because he's sincerely happy or if it's because he feels like it's something he needs to do to reassure everyone that he'll be okay.

I hope he's happy.

"What kinds of guys do you like, then?" I ask him.

"Lots of kinds," he admits. "I like tall guys. Well, I kind of have to since most guys _are_ taller than me. I feel like I'm admiring lots of jock types. Token is really good looking. He's, like, perfect. So are you. So is Kenny, even though he's kind of lanky. Kenny looks like a model. I felt really good when he admitted to being interested in me."

"How'd it happen?" I pry, finally asking the question that's been on the tip of my tongue. "Details, please."

"That time we all hung out he took me aside and asked if I'd be into hanging out with just him one of these days," Craig starts. "I said yes and we made plans and got to know each other a bit more. We got coffee and talked and then he walked me home. That's when I told him he could hang around my place for a few days since he mentioned his parents being crazy. It was kind of impulsive of me, but he accepted and then yesterday before he left he asked me out."

"Did you guys fuck?" I ask before I can help myself. Knowing Kenny, I wouldn't be surprised. Somehow, he always manages to get what he wants. He has an easy time of it. I don't know why. Maybe it's because he's a good looking guy. Maybe it's because he's a smooth talker.

Craig looks taken aback. "What?"

"You and Kenny," I specify. "Did you guys fuck?"

"No…" he says slowly. "I hardly know him as of now… I want to get to know him better before we do things like that."

"Oh," I respond. "I was wondering what you guys were doing the night we were all drinking. Kenny is a pretty horny guy, so…" I trail off and shrug.

"We just talked," Craig says. "We talked a lot – mostly just about small stuff, but it was still nice. I liked that he paid so much attention to me." He pauses and wrinkles his nose. "That sounds so whiny of me, but it's true."

"Be careful around him," I warn, not wanting to burst Craig's bubble. "He's a dealer."

"A dealer?" Craig questions, jaw dropping. "Like… drugs?"

"Yeah," I say, "and I'm not just talking about weed, since that's legal here. He deals meth. His parents make it and he sells it. It's a pretty fucked up situation."

"Jeez," Craig murmurs, frowning. "He never told me…"

"Why would he?" I snort. "News like that would scare most people away."

"Well… it won't scare me away," Craig vows.

But, for some reason, I wish it would. This whole thing is making me really uneasy.

"It's pretty sudden," I can't help but say. "I mean, do you think he was into you before you got amnesia?"

Craig lets out a sigh. "The thought occurred," he admits. "I'm not entirely sure. I wanted to bring it up but the words got stuck and I guess I just want to believe that I can move on from being a shitty person."

"People can change," I tell him.

"I know," he murmurs, "but I wonder what would have happened if things stayed the same. If I never lost my memories, then would I have continued to be horrible to everyone? Probably. I didn't really choose to change. I was forced into it."

I just shrug. "Sorry."

"Don't be," he says.

I'm worried he's trying to latch on to everyone who offers him support. I don't want him to fall in with Kenny because Kenny can be mean. Craig, like this, is so fucking innocent and naïve. I know he would hate for me to say it, but there's no point denying it. I don't want people to start taking advantage of that.


	4. September: For all to see

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

* * *

Soon enough Token, Nichole, Kevin will be gone to university. Then it'll just be me, Bebe, Tweek, Jason, Red, Craig and Kenny. So, on the weekend I decide to invite everyone over for a little bit of mind numbing fun.

Ugh. Kenny.

When Craig shows up, Kenny is right next to him and they're holding hands. Naturally. I guess this means everything is going well. They're probably exclusive by now. I wouldn't know. I haven't seen Craig since he dropped the bomb. I've kind of been avoidant.

I open the door wider, allowing them both inside. I walk them to the basement where everyone else is sitting around – Token, Nichole, Tweek, Bebe, Red and Jason. Jason mans the remote control for the night, watching a repeat of a football game as he guzzles beer. It usually takes a few drinks for him to get social or friendly.

"Beer is in the fridge," I tell Kenny and Craig. "If you want something heavier you can go in my room. I have some bottles of rum under my bed."

Kenny nods and a split second later he disappears with Craig, leaving me to wonder if I somehow gave them permission to hump on my bed. Hopefully not. I brush it off and sit down next to Bebe, staring down into my rum and coke.

She leans into me and sing-songs, "They're gonna _fuuuuuck_."

"No, they're not," I say.

She laughs and adds, "They probably are. I mean… It's Kenny. He knows exactly what to say to get someone in bed."

Jason turns around. "Craig is a fag?"

"Watch it," I say.

"Been under a rock?" Bebe snorts at him.

"I'm not even surprised," he mutters. "He's too damn good looking."

I roll my eyes and Bebe says to me, "I told you it'd happen."

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter. "You were right. You are the Queen of the world and I know nothing."

She smiles and nudges me. "At least you know that much."

* * *

Craig and Kenny return fifteen minutes later and they're both holding drinks. Kenny starts chatting as soon as he enters the room, talking about silly stuff. He laughs and smiles and glows like he's the fuckin' magic man and it makes Craig melt. I feel like I'm literally watching him fall in love. I hate it. I'm jealous. Yeah, I'll admit it. I'm so fucking jealous. I'm just waiting for Kenny to prove that he isn't good enough for Craig.

Later in the night, when me and Kenny get a second alone, I decide to question him. "So…" I start, trying not to sound awkward as fuck. "You and Craig?"

Kenny nods. "Me and Craig."

"How's that going?" I ask and we both stare at Craig. He's at the opposite side of the room, seated on the floor in front of the TV. Jason is currently explaining football to him. He looks really into what he's saying while Craig just looks like he's trying to keep up.

Kenny shrugs. "All right," he answers vaguely.

"Why'd you go after Craig?" I pry.

Kenny shrugs his shoulders. "I like him."

"What do you like about him?" I wonder. "He used to be such an asshole to you."

"He has blowjob lips," Kenny says lewdly. "They're nice. He does this thing when he's confused or in thought where his eyebrows draw together and he bites on them. It's hot. I think lips like that would look good around my dick."

I nearly have a coronary. "What the _fuck_?" I spit. It's not the kind of thing I want people saying about my best friend… or any of my friends for that matter. Hell, I don't think unwanted lewd comments should be said about anyone _ever_!

Kenny chortles, seeming to find my reaction hilarious. "Just playin'," he says when he finally stops laughing, "but I do think he's cute. I guess I never realized it because he was too busy looking at me like I was a piece of shit stuck on the bottom of his favorite shoes."

"Nice visual," I mutter, but I guess it's true enough.

He laughs some more before quietly saying, "He's giving me blue balls, man. He's a tease. He acts all coy and cute but he never delivers."

I scoff at that. "It's not his responsibility to get you off, dickface. Go masturbate."

"He hasn't even let me _touch_ him yet," Kenny continues, dismissing me.

"Then what the hell were you two doing in my room?" I ask.

"Just talking," Kenny complains. "It's literally all he wants to do."

"You've only been dating for, like, five minutes," I point out.

"Yeah, exactly!" he says in a loud whisper. "Craig should have let me check him out naked by now. What the fuck is he waiting for?"

I pale significantly. Clearly Kenny has no concept of how the typical relationship progresses. "Maybe he wants to make sure you're not going to fuck him and chuck him," I say. "Maybe he's a bit sentimental. Maybe he wants things to mean something."

Kenny just shrugs. He is really starting to piss me off. God, this sucks! I'd rather Craig dated Jason for fuck's sake.

As the night continues, Craig stays sober. So does Nichole, but everyone else is _pleasantly_ drunk apart from Kenny. He gets progressively more wasted. Like always.

* * *

Everyone scatters throughout the night. Kyle picks Bebe up and ends up driving Nichole and Token back to the Black residence. Jason ditches us around midnight and walks home with Kevin and Tweek. Craig drags Kenny home afterwards and then it's just me and Red.

"Hey," I say, giving her a smile.

She smiles wearily in return. "This sucks," she says and I don't bother asking what it is she's referring to. It's Craig.

"I know," I agree with her.

"Ahhh…" she sighs, lightly slapping her cheeks. "My crush on him is back and it's stronger than ever… I feel like I might've had a chance, but I guess not."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize with her. I don't bother telling her that she never had a chance. There's no point.

In mutually silent consent we both move up to my room and settle on my bed.

"I feel like I'll never get over him," she murmurs. "Have you ever felt that way about someone?"

"I felt like that about Bebe for a while," I confess, "but I like where I stand now with her. We're better off as friends."

"I wish I could see it like that," she says, "but I don't think Craig even wants to be my friend."

"I think he does," I tell her honestly. "He knows how much of a dick he was pre-crash. He wants to make it up to everyone. I told him he was majorly shit to you. He felt bad about it."

"He apologized to me the first night we all hung out and drank together," she admits. "He took me aside and told me he was sincerely sorry for ever hurting me. It was nice to hear."

"Oh, wow," I say. "He never told me he did that."

"I think he apologized to everyone," she continues. "He's different. Sweeter. A guy like Kenny might change that…"

"I was thinking that, too," I admit. I put my elbows on my knees and rub my temples. "I don't want Craig to be back where he was before this happened…"

"It's stressing you out, huh?" she asks.

"Yeah," I snort. "I mean… I just want to protect him. Maybe I have no right to, especially after hurting him, but –"

"Hurting him?" she questions.

I wince at my slip up. "Yeah…" I murmur. Fuck it, I'll tell her what happened. "I'm the reason he got hit by the car. He got mad and I was chasing him. He stopped in the middle of the road and started screaming at me and neither of us saw a truck coming."

Red's lips part in shock. "Oh, my God…" she whispers.

"The night beforehand we both got really drunk," I continue the horror story. "He confessed something to me for the first time in my fucking life and, in my stupid drunk state, I rebuffed him. He got upset and said he'd never forgive me."

"Shit," Red deadpans. "God, I'm really sorry. That must have been so scary to see…"

"It was," I respond tersely. "He went flying down the street and all these stupid fucking kids just stared at him lying there as I called 911. I was the only one who took out my phone. Everyone else probably wanted him to fucking bleed to death or crack his head open."

"People are cruel," she says quietly.

"Unbelievably so," I agree. I sit up straight and glance at her. She glances back and then we both glance away.

"Clyde…?" she says my name in a questioning tone.

"Mm?" I respond.

"Want to fuck?" she asks out of the blue.

Somehow, the offer doesn't surprise me. Nonetheless, I still pry with, "Why?"

"Because we're both hurting," she answers. "It's okay if we do a thing like this. We're friends, after all."

I stare at her. She's beautiful, of course. She's tall and slim with long hair the color of ripe strawberries. "Yeah, all right," I say. I guess I'm shallow and maybe it's stupid for us to do this. Hell, I know it is… but that doesn't stop us from getting up and throwing off our clothes.

She lies on her back in the center of my bed and confesses, "I haven't slept with anyone all year."

"Me neither," I tell her, digging in my nightstand and rolling on a condom.

She spreads her bent knees and I kneel between. She's wet. I position myself and then push forward. We're both real quiet, merely emitting soft, breathy sounds. The experience in itself feels unceremonious, but she feels nice. She's soft and smooth and warm and for some stupid reason all I can think about is Craig and how he would feel. It's funny in a sad way. I bet she's thinking the exact same fucking thing right now.

We don't kiss the entire time. After I get off, I go down on her. That's that. When it's over, we lie side by side for a few minutes and it's quiet until she breaks the silence. "It was nice," she says. "You're good."

I chuckle at that. "So are you."

Eventually, Red is the first one to move. She gets out of bed and darts across the hall. When she returns, she throws her clothes on. "Thanks, Clyde," she says, giving me a peck on the lips before leaving. I know it doesn't mean anything.

* * *

I sleep in late and wake up in the afternoon. My head aches a bit but it's tolerable. I'm still naked, so I decide to throw on some sweatpants before going downstairs. I grab a glass of water and sip on it as I mindlessly wander around the house. I feel weird about last night, but not bad. Me and Red will probably need to mull things over with one another soon enough.

When I'm back in my room, I shoot her a text and ask how she feels. A few minutes later she responds and says she's fine, no hangover. Then she sends a smiley emoticon. I guess that's reassurance.

 _ME: You're okay with what we did, right?_

 _RED: It was nice, don't feel bad about it. We didn't do anything wrong and we don't have to keep it a secret. Bebe won't care. She'd probably just laugh._

 _ME: Okay. You're probably right._

 _RED: I am!_

 _ME: Haha, okay, I'll catch up with you later. I need to get ready for work._

 _RED: Have fun!_

I put my phone on my nightstand and go take a quick shower. Once finished, I dry off and put on my khakis and button-up shirt.

Time to face the day.

* * *

I close tonight. I lock down the store and it's dark when I finally make my way outside. I'm surprised when I spot Craig sitting on the stairway out front.

"Hey," I greet him.

He stands up and turns my way. "Hey! How was work?"

"Pretty dull," I admit as we start walking, "but I don't mind. I usually just surf the net all day."

"That's fun," he says with a smile.

"Did you work today?"

He nods. "I'm only doing part time until I am more settled in, but I'm getting the hang of things."

"That's good," I tell him. Once pleasantries are out of the way, I ask, "How's Kenny?"

Craig shrugs. "Good. I saw him earlier. He came to get me after work. I asked him what he did work-wise and he admitted he was a dealer. Then he asked if that scared me. I told him it didn't, but that was a lie."

"Just stay far away from that part of his life," I warn.

"That's the plan," Craig murmurs.

"Did you guys have sex yet?" I ask him, unable to help myself. The thought of Kenny and Craig sleeping together makes me feel gross. I know Craig isn't some sort of prize, but I still can't help but feel like Kenny doesn't deserve him.

Craig shakes his head. "We did something today, though. He, uh, put his finger in…" he says slowly, like he's shy or embarrassed. Cute.

"How many?" I pry.

He laughs nervously and says, "One… I'm very much a virgin and not used to anything going there."

"Bebe once put a finger up my butt," I confess and Craig chuckles. I laugh along with him and then continue with, "I didn't find it hurt. It just felt kind of weird. Did it hurt you?"

I don't know why, but questions keep coming out and I feel like a pervert but I don't care.

"Not the finger…" he says slowly. "He tried to put his thing in, but it hurt so badly. I couldn't take it so we just did other stuff instead. I don't know… I kind of feel weird about it, like I wasn't ready to take it that far. I mean… we literally just got together at the end of last month."

"That's fine," I tell him. "Take it at the pace you're comfortable with."

Craig lets out a sigh. "How many girls have you slept with?" he asks out of the blue.

"Six," I say. "Bebe and a few drunken hook ups with some girls we went to school with. Er, I also slept with Red the other night after all of you left…"

"Oh, wow," Craig says, looking surprised. "I didn't expect that."

"Me, neither," I admit. "It was pretty sudden."

"So… Bebe is the only girl you've ever dated?"

I shrug my shoulders. "I had a few girlfriends when I was younger, but Bebe was my last. I dated her for a couple years. She was the first girl I slept with. We weren't really the best together, though. You were right about that. We never talked until we broke up. Now we're good friends. It's better this way."

Craig nods as he listens and then he asks, "Do you miss it?"

"I miss being in a relationship," I confess, "but not with her. I just miss getting to lie in bed with someone and hold them. I miss all the little things. It's always nice to share the little things with someone. Cooking, going for walks, shopping… holding hands and cuddling and shit."

"Yeah," Craig sighs. "Me and Kenny don't really do stuff like that. I mean, he takes me out but then we go straight back to my place or his and then we just make out a lot."

"Try telling him these things," I suggest.

Craig nods his head, but I can tell he's probably not going to say a damn thing to Kenny. At this rate, things are going to end fast. I want things to end, but I don't want Craig to get hurt. Unfortunately, it seems inevitable at this point.

* * *

Soon enough, half my crew of friends is gone to university. Since summer break is over, those of us without jobs finally decided to get to work. Jason got a job as a docker, Bebe now works at Sephora and Red works at a daycare center. It's all pretty fitting. I still work at the stupid Book Depository while Craig still works at the pet store and Tweek still works for his parents. So does Kenny, though what he's doing for his parents isn't exactly legal.

I don't think Laura and Thomas like the fact that Craig is dating a tool like Kenny. They seem to turn their noses up at him, not that he gives a shit.

I can't stop thinking about their relationship. I'm just waiting for Craig to come up to me and start talking about all the awesome sex he's having with Kenny. I'll have to nod along and pretend I'm happy for him. It's going to be fucking hard.

* * *

The following week, Kenny finds me at work. Unfortunately, it's a slow day at the Book Depository and I can't pretend that I'm busy.

"What's up?" I ask him, trying to sound chipper.

"We _still_ haven't had sex," Kenny whines and I have to try hard not to roll my eyes even though I'm somewhat surprised.

"Maybe he isn't ready," I respond dully, bored with this ongoing conversation.

"I think he is," Kenny insists. "I mean, we tried numerous times, but he literally just _can't_ take a dick. He's too rigid. It's like he's too scared to relax his muscles. He keeps tensing up when I try to put it in."

"Try to make him feel comfortable, then," I suggest.

"How?" Kenny wonders. "You spend a lot of time with him, right? What do you think would make him feel good?"

"Avoid anything kinky," I say. "I don't want to assume shit, but he seems more into romance and vanilla. He's inexperienced and I think he wants the first time to be something special. So, make it special. Light some candles. Scatter the rose petals. Use fancy oils and give him a massage. Touch him a bit first. Don't just go right in, really take your time with him. Use, like, a boat load of lube, too."

Kenny smiles a small smile. "Must be weird, huh? A straight dude helping another dude try to bed his best friend."

"Yeah," I force a laugh, though the entire situation depresses me. I'm jealous, but I'm not going to let my jealousy stand in the way of Craig's happiness. If he's happy with Kenny, then I can be happy for him.

"Okay, so what else?" he asks.

"Er…" I muse, rubbing the back of my head and trying not to sound too awkward. "Finger him more. Get him used to the feel of having something inside of him. If you're trying to get him to relax, try touching him in places that aren't necessarily sexual… y'know what I mean?"

Kenny nods, looking like he's taking mental notes.

God, this fucking sucks.

* * *

After nearly an hour of torture, Kenny leaves. I work diligently for the rest of my shift and when I get home, I crash. Come morning, I wake up to a text from Kenny that says, in unfortunate and excruciating detail, that he succeeded in bedding Craig. He thanks me for the tips.

That was quicker than I anticipated. Way quicker.

I respond with congratulations and then I toss my phone across the room.

* * *

Around noon, Craig shows up at my door. He's wearing pajama pants and a black t-shirt. His, not Kenny's this time. I let him in and he takes off his sneakers.

"What's up?" I ask him as we move into my room.

"Had sex last night," he says unceremoniously. "Finally."

"Did it hurt?" I ask, flopping onto my bed.

"Kenny is hung like a horse," Craig says crudely, gingerly sitting down next to me. He winces visibly and I pretend not to see. "I thought I was going to die."

"Jesus Christ," I mutter.

He shrugs and sighs. "It burned a lot, but it got better. I guess I just needed to power through it. I suppose it'll get easier."

I wrinkle my nose. "You should have waited a little while longer and just, like… worked on stretching yourself out a bit, y'know?"

Craig smiles at the blatant discomfort in my tone. "I could tell he was getting impatient… He's so experienced and I'm not. I'm worried he'll expect me to be able to do more than I can, you know?"

"Fuck that," I retort. "He could have waited. If he cares, then he would have. Don't let him pressure you into anything."

"I just felt so tired afterward," Craig admits with a sigh. "I mean… that's not right, is it? I feel like I should have wanted to lie with him and talk, but I just wanted him to go so I could be by myself."

"You like him, though… right?" I ask.

"Yeah," Craig says sincerely. "I do… but he's not really a sentimental guy, so it makes me feel like I should keep certain feelings to myself."

"Don't," I respond. "If you feel that way then you guys aren't communicating. You should be. I think Kenny is the kind of guy who forgets there is an emotional aspect to being in a relationship and not just a physical one."

"Yeah," Craig laughs. "That's exactly it. It's hard to move forward without talking about it… and I do want to move forward with him. I mean… I don't want to date someone I don't see myself having a future with. I don't see a point to it."

"You _need_ to talk to him about these things," I urge.

"It's hard," he groans.

I reach forward and ruffle his head. "You can do it."

He rolls his eyes at me. "Fine," he decides. "I'll try to talk to him next time I see him."

* * *

Tomorrow night Bebe has us over. We all probably drink way too much, but hey, what else is there for a bunch of teenagers to do in a crusty town like South Park? Not much.

Tweek won't be here tonight since he has to work. I'm the first person at Bebe's house. Red is the second. When Bebe starts mixing drinks, I pull Red aside.

"Hey," I say to her. I haven't really spoken to her since we fucked earlier in the month and I want to make sure everything is normal.

"Hey," she echoes.

"We're good, right?" I ask.

"Yeah!" she insists with a laugh. "You worry too much, Clyde. It's bad for the skin."

"I wasn't sure," I admit with a small smile. "You left pretty quick when we were finished."

She lets out another laugh. "I used to be really insecure about my vagina," she says bluntly. "I thought it was ugly because it didn't look like the ones in mainstream porn. I guess some of my awkwardness was lingering and that's why I made a quick getaway. I'm sorry, Clyde. I probably made you worry a bit, huh?"

"Your parts are all fine," I tell her. "Perfect, in fact!"

She smiles at me. "Yeah, I eventually learned that if there is a guy who thinks otherwise then he's a jackass."

"Majorly," I agree with her.

"I've only slept with two people," she confesses. "You and Jason – but that was a fluke. We both got really, really, really drunk back in high school. Annie had just dumped him and Craig just rejected me. He was being all sweet and sympathetic and I basically pulled the stunt I pulled with you. I was sad, he was sad and we both wanted a distraction. He was really nice, though. That kind of surprised me. He's so rough around the edges, but he can be a decent guy."

"I'm glad," I tell her sincerely.

When Bebe returns with drinks she asks, "What are you two talking about?"

"We had sex a couple weeks ago," Red explains.

Bebe's jaw drops. "No way!" she exclaims. "How was it?"

I can't help but laugh. So typical.

* * *

Naturally, Kenny and Craig show up hand-in-hand… like always. Bebe leads Kenny into the kitchen and I grab Craig, sitting him down with me and Red.

"Did it work?" I ask him. "Did you guys talk?"

"No," Craig mutters forlornly. "I tried and Kenny insisted I was overreacting and then we had sex again. I think there are things he doesn't like hearing."

I pale and glance at Red, who is frowning. "What a jackass," she says, giving her opinion on the matter. "He's invalidating you. That's not okay."

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do," Craig confesses.

"Well," she starts. "Call him out when he does something you don't like and when you feel like he's trying to make you feel like you're being crazy, call him out on that, too. Don't let things slide. That's how people slip into abusive patterns."

I decide to give them a moment. I know Red is probably craving it. I think she could be a good friend to Craig and he definitely needs more friends he can open up to.

* * *

After Jason arrives, we all gather in the basement in front of Bebe's flat screen. Around nine, Craig ends up calling Kenny out.

"You drink too much," Craig says when Kenny is downing his sixth rum and coke.

The room goes silent and it's increasingly uncomfortable. I can tell this is going to be a shit show.

"What?" Kenny asks tersely, staring at him with a look of blatant distaste. His speech is slurred.

"You're _really_ drunk," Craig points out, "yet you're still drinking more… Why? You're going to get sick and then you're going to complain about it all day tomorrow. That's what happens every time."

"You're exaggerating," Kenny insists.

"No, I'm not," Craig responds in a firm yet even tone. "You keep saying I'm overreacting whenever I try to talk to you about things, but I'm _not_."

Kenny doesn't respond. Instead, he grabs Craig's elbow, forcing him to stand and then leading him out of the room. I watch as they disappear and I want to follow, but I know it's not my business.

"Kenny is so fucking aggressive with him," Red notes in a murmur.

"It ain't right," Bebe adds.

I'll fuckin' say. It really pisses me off. Actually, it's more than that. It makes me queasy and I feel unsettled by it.

Red looks guilty that her advice backfired, even though she shouldn't. It's not her fault Kenny is volatile.

Ten awkward minutes go by and I decide I need another drink. Desperately. I excuse myself and go upstairs and into the kitchen. After I refill my glass, I go straight to the third floor because I know that's where Kenny probably took Craig. I hear shuffling sounds when I reach Bebe's bedroom. I press my ear against the door and try to remain as quiet as possible.

"Come on," I hear Kenny urge.

"I'm still sore from last time," Craig tries to argue.

"You need to loosen up," Kenny complains. "Both literally and figuratively."

"You're mean."

More shuffling and then a long sigh.

"See? Feels good, right?" comes Kenny's voice.

"… yes…"

"I'll be super gentle. Promise."

I grit my teeth and bang on the door. "What the fuck are you guys doing in there?" I ask, expecting a lie or an excuse.

But no.

Instead, Kenny says, "I have my fingers in Craig's ass. He's all squirmy… Wanna see?"

Hell yeah.

"No!" I shout and I hear Craig groan audibly.

"Then go away!" Kenny shouts back.

Begrudgingly, I walk off and make my way back into the basement. God, I hate feeling like this. I hate sitting back and watching shit like this happen.

"You look angry," Red points out.

"I am," I seethe. "They're upstairs _making up_."

Red and Bebe make 'o' shapes with their mouths, nodding understandingly while Jason simply says, "Gross."

* * *

By the time Kenny reappears, he's alone.

"Where's Craig?" Red asks, voicing my exact question.

"He went home," Kenny says with a shrug.

I immediately stand up and nod for him to follow me into the hallway. "What the fuck was that about?" I ask him in a whisper.

"Sorry," Kenny says. "I just got kind of mad. We talked it over."

I raise an eyebrow at the blatant lie. "No, you didn't. You stuck your fingers up his ass, but you didn't talk anything over."

Kenny smirks at me. "What, were you listening the entire time? We talked _after_."

I grit my teeth. "Don't grab him like that again."

"I didn't do anything wrong," Kenny argues. "God, you're making me sound like I'm an abusive asshole."

I eye him, but I don't respond. Honestly, what he's doing _is_ bordering on abuse. It's not right.

"He's not as rigid anymore," Kenny adds out of the blue. "Your tips helped. I mean, there were no rose petals or candles, but I listened to what you said. It still hurt him a bit, though…"

"I know," I say. "He told me."

"He doesn't know how to ride a dick," Kenny continues, starting to complain. "I mean, it's not rocket science. You just grind your hips back and forth."

"He was a virgin just last week," I point out tersely, finding it too difficult to be nice to him. "Of course he doesn't know how to do all these things. Christ. Stop expecting him to act like the people in the porn you watch. He's _not_ a porn star. So help me God, if you make him feel bad about this I'll choke you to death."

"Wow, someone is protective," he snorts.

"He's my best friend," I state. "Of course I'm protective. He's been through a lot, especially with the accident."

"Yeah, yeah," Kenny dismisses me and starts scrolling through his phone. "I guess I'm not giving him enough credit."

God, he's not even fucking listening to me.

"Look, look," Kenny says as he plays with his phone. A second later, he holds it up in front of my face and I nearly choke on my own saliva. It's a picture of Craig. It's a _dirty_ picture of Craig. He's in a bed that's not his own. I assume it's Kenny's? He's leaning against a pillow, holding his legs to his chest. I can see _everything_.

"Dude!" I shout, pushing Kenny's hand away. "Don't show me that shit!"

Kenny just laughs. "Your face is so red right now."

"So fucking wonder!" I snap. "I just saw your boyfriends asshole and boner!"

"Yeah, ain't he cute?" Kenny asks offhandedly as he continues to scroll. "Who the hell would've thought he'd have it in him to make a face like that. Not me. I guess I'm still used to him turning up his nose at the sight of me."

"You better not be showing these to people," I warn, starting to worry.

He holds his phone up again, showing me another picture of Craig in a lewd position.

"Stop!" I nearly shriek, sounding shrill. I don't know why he's doing this. Maybe it's because he's smashed and spiteful. I guess that's a toxic combination.

Kenny laughs again. He doesn't seem to care. "He's a screamer. You should see the scratches he leaves on my back, it's fucking ridiculous."

"Stop talking about him like that," I say shakily. It's making me feel really ill.

"No," Kenny responds simply. "Are you jealous?"

Ha... So, that's what this is all about.

"Get out!" I shout before I can force myself to calm down. I shove Kenny towards the stairs and continue yelling at him. It doesn't take long for Red, Bebe and Jason to pile into the hallway and watch me have a bitch fit.

Jason grabs me by the shoulders and forces me to calm down as Kenny collects himself.

"Fine," he says simply. "I'll go."

"Don't bother," I mutter, pushing my way past him. I run up the stairs and out the door as fast as I can.

* * *

I can't stop thinking about that lewd picture of Craig. I know it's wrong of me. I don't want to keep thinking about it, but it won't leave my mind.

I wander around town aimlessly. It's almost 10PM, but luckily it's still really warm this time of year

I wander until I hear a bunch of familiar voices near the park. Stan's crew. I haven't seen these fuckers since school ended. Stan is sitting at the bottom of a slide while Kyle is on top of the monkey bars and Cartman just stands. They seem to be passing around a bottle of something. Liquor, undoubtedly.

I'm somewhat surprised none of them went to university – especially Kyle. He was always the smart one. Then again, maybe he's sick of it. Bebe used to tell me about how much pressure his parents put on him. It sounded pretty shitty.

Since I'm drunk, I decide to go say hi. I stumble towards them and hold up my hand.

"Well, well, well…" Cartman says. "Been a while."

"Yeah," I snort. "What's up?"

"Getting drunk," Kyle answers. "Seems like you're already there though, huh?"

"Yeah, I just left your girlfriend's house," I admit. "She had the usual crew over."

Kyle likes to avoid Bebe's house on nights like this. I know he's not particularly fond of Craig and Jason.

"Have fun?" he asks.

I don't bother answering. "Kenny was there," I add. "I got in a fight with him."

"Not surprising," Stan cuts in. "Kenny is on a pretty bad streak lately, even with us. It's like he's drunk or high all the time."

"High?" I question weakly, not wanting Craig to get caught up in Kenny's mess.

"Plus, he showed us a whole bunch of Craig's nudes," Kyle says with a frown. "Me and Stan tried to get him to stop, but Cartman was humoring him. He thought it was funny seeing Craig like that. I guess the fat ass thought it was Craig's comeuppance or something for always acting like a tool."

"It _was_ funny," Cartman interjects, chortling. "I never imagined Craig could make such _adorable_ expressions."

I feel like I'm gonna fucking explode. "WHAT!?" I roar, feeling like I'm ready to have a temper tantrum.

Kyle holds up his hands. "Chill out," he says.

"No!" I shout. "Do you know how fucking evil that is? It's like _revenge_ porn! That's _not_ okay! People who do that are SHIT!" I literally do feel like I'm going to explode. This is too disgusting for words. "Craig is being _abused_ ," I point out sharply. "He's being abused by _your_ friend! Yeah, Craig has a bad track record, but it's so unbelievably _wrong_ for Kenny to act like this!"

I fucking knew Kenny didn't forgive Craig! Of course he wouldn't have forgiven Craig this easily... He's probably holding a huge grudge against him and this is how he plans to exact revenge.

"Well, what the hell should I do about it?" Kyle asks. He doesn't sound angry. His tone is calm and it sounds like his question might actually be sincere.

"Talk to him," I plead.

"Not possible," Kyle insists. "Kenny is severely messed up. He has a lot of issues and none of them have been resolved. On top of all that, he's skillfully manipulative. I think he blames Craig for it more than he blames his father, though his father is honestly the one who did most of the damage."

"Because his dad beats him?" I guess.

"Above other things," Kyle says with a frown. "Carol had an affair and that's how Kenny was born. This is how Stuart gets her back for it… by fucking up the proof of her betrayal. Kenny has a hard time blaming his dad for stuff, so, instead, he blames Craig."

I wince at that. "Oh."

God, this entire situation keeps getting worse.

I want to fucking puke.

* * *

I wake up on the park jungle gym with my head on Stan's stomach and Kyle's head on my stomach. Cartman is nowhere in sight. He probably left us at some point in the night. God, I can't believe I stayed out here with these assholes.

I lightly tug on Kyle's curls and he lets out a long whine before sitting up. I sit up after him and watch as realization dawns upon him. "Oh, fuck!" he shouts, reaching towards Stan and giving him a _friendly_ slap in the face.

Stan sits up and immediately starts to hurl. Kyle stands up and sways, saying, "Oh, God… I think I'm still drunk."

"Me, too," Stan whimpers, wiping his mouth off. "Ugh… it's too bright."

I grimace at the both of them. "How much did you two drink?"

"Too much…" Stan moans.

"Go to Bebe's," I tell them. "Her house is the closest. When I left last night Red and Jason were still there, but they are probably gone by now."

After that, I leave them and make my way home. The sun is beating down harshly and it's so fucking warm I can't wait to take my pants off. Part of me will welcome the snow when it finally returns.

I arrive at the end of my driveway only to find Craig on my doorstep. I'm mildly surprised. I half expected that he'd be with Kenny by now, patching things up.

"You disappeared last night," I point out as we both move inside.

Craig laughs nervously and confesses, "Kenny made me kind of upset. I told him I wasn't in the mood and he said I was giving him blue balls. I said that he was being unfair… He just got so defensive. I cried."

I can't even fucking picture Craig crying. The thought alone is strange.

"He's a piece of shit," I bite out. "I mean it… He's fucking vile."

Craig frowns but he doesn't speak. I help him stand and we go inside. We move into the kitchen and I grab myself water. I ask Craig if he wants anything, but he politely declines.

"He showed me your nudes last night after you left," I confess cautiously, leaning against the counter. "He was probably mad you ran out on him and decided to be a piece of shit."

Craig's lips part and his cheeks flush. "What…?" he croaks.

"He's been showing a lot of people," I murmur.

"Oh," Craig says hoarsely. He puts a hand over his mouth and closes his eyes. He stays still for a few minutes and I can tell he's trying to calm himself down.

"I think he's also been doing hard drugs," I add. "I saw his friends last night. I left Bebe's shortly after you did. I ended up getting into a fight with Kenny."

"Why?" he asks, sounding tired. He lets his hand fall and he glances over at me.

"We were fighting about you," I admit with a pathetic laugh.

Craig smiles wearily. "This sucks… I feel really shitty."

"You need to dump him," I say.

"I just want to talk to him first…" Craig murmurs.

I feel like pulling my face off I'm so frustrated. Why is Craig going to give Kenny another chance? He doesn't deserve one. He's proved that.

Craig gages my reaction and says, "I know what he did was really horrible… but I know things about Kenny that you don't."

"I don't care what he's been through," I murmur. "It might sound cruel, but there's no excuse for what he's doing."

Craig sighs. "I know… but I still need to talk to him…"

"I'm coming with you," I insist.

"Fine," he relents.

* * *

By the time we leave, it's noon and I can't help but wonder if Kyle and Stan made it home. I shoot Bebe a text as we enter the poor part of town. God, I can't believe I'm doing this. Things are getting so fucking weird. It's making me miss volatile Craig Tucker.

We soon stop in front of a familiar, worn down house. I haven't been to Kenny's since I was a little kid. I was oblivious to all the shit happening in there. Now that I know, I'd rather be anywhere but here.

Craig knocks and his disgusting father opens the door. There's a beer can in his hand – typical.

"The boy is in his room," he says gruffly.

Craig nods his thanks and I follow him upstairs and we round a corner. There isn't even a fucking door in Kenny's room. It's just an empty archway. Inside is messy – really messy. There are papers and magazines and clothes all over the floor and his bed is a simple mattress in the very center of it all. Kenny is lying in the middle, looking lifeless.

"Hey," Craig says.

"Go," Kenny responds groggily, but Craig doesn't budge an inch. Kenny lets out an impatient sigh, getting out of bed and standing in front of Craig. "Go," he says again, more pointedly this time. He's probably coming down from whatever the hell he was on last night.

"No!" Craig snaps.

"Go away!" Kenny shrieks at him, roughly shoving him into the wall. "LEAVE!"

Craig sinks to the floor, taken aback. God, Kenny is acting like a psychopath. He probably is one.

"McCormick, you fucking asshole!" I shout, helping Craig stand. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Kenny lets out a long sigh. "I'm sorry," he then says. "I have no idea what came over me."

Craig looks at him, still stunned. "It's okay," he responds quietly.

This is bad.

This is really, really, really fucking bad.


	5. October: A nasty breakup

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Thanks to my reviewers!**

* * *

The snow is back.

Craig and Kenny have been dating for two months. It's weird to think about it like that. I honestly didn't think they'd last anywhere near that long. They're so volatile, but Craig has been so strong through all the shit. When I think he's going to break down and start bawling, he doesn't. He keeps his head up. He smiles. He forgives. Every fucking time, he forgives. I know it's because he's so fucking scared of people hating him.

I'm waiting for Kenny to fucking explode and fuck up irreparably. That'll probably cause Craig to implode and the entire thing will be a big mess. No matter how it ends, it'll be bad. It's inevitable by now. They can't keep this up. It's not safe or sane.

Tonight is just like every other night except one crucial difference – instead of Kenny being the drunkest person in the room, it's Craig.

See what I mean? It's already starting to take a toll on him.

Tweek is gone by now. I don't blame him for making a getaway. He probably didn't want to watch the shit show that is sure to follow. Now it's just me, Kenny, Craig, Bebe, Jason and Red.

Kenny bends Craig over the arm of the sofa so his face is pushed into a cushion and his ass is in the air. "Come on…" he whines, shaking him impatiently. "Sober up, you stupid fuck."

"It's your damn fault," I mutter. "You upset him, so he got smashed."

"Whatever," Kenny sighs. "I'll take him back to my place."

"No," I say flat out. "You'll just try to fuck him in his sleep or something. _I'll_ take him home."

Kenny looks legitimately offended. "No, I won't! I'm a saint. Call me Saint McCormick."

I laugh loudly even though I'm literally shaking with anger. "Yeah, right!"

He just grabs a fistful of the back of Craig's shirt. "Come on, Craig. Up."

"Stop…" Craig whines, sounding only half aware.

Jason is rubbing his temples. He's either annoyed or his hangover decided to show up early. "You guys are seriously fucking stupid. All three of you."

"Hey," I mutter.

"Craig isn't going with either of you," Bebe interjects wearily. "He's staying with me tonight."

"Fair enough," Kenny relents.

* * *

Come morning, it's just me, Bebe and Craig, who is still passed out on the sofa where Kenny dropped him the night before.

Me and Bebe are in the kitchen. She's making coffee and I'm sitting at the table. Neither of us is hung over.

"Things need to change," she murmurs.

"Yeah," I agree. I don't bother asking what it is she's referring to. I already know she's referring to Craig and Kenny. "I'll walk him home when he's up."

Bebe nods her head. A minute later she sets two cups of coffee down, sliding one towards me before taking a seat. I thank her and sip slowly.

* * *

When Craig finally does wake up, he's full of guilt over last night's drinking.

"I'm a stupid, stupid person!" he shouts.

"No, you're –" I try, but he cuts me off.

"No!" he shouts some more. "No! I'm bad! I'm the worst! You both should be angry at me!"

"I'm not," I say.

"Me neither," Bebe promises.

He takes a loud breath. "Oh."

"Yeah…" I say and Bebe nods.

"Oh," he repeats himself. "Well… I'm still sorry… I'm sorry, okay?"

"Yeah, I know," I tell him. "You don't have to be, though. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I was an inconvenience," he says.

"Your boyfriend is an inconvenience most nights," I remind him.

"I'm supposed to be the one who holds it together," Craig murmurs.

"Don't put that kind of pressure on yourself," I try to tell him.

"I feel like I need to keep it together," he says with a sigh. "I feel like if I slip up, people won't like me anymore. I'm on thin ice because I was such a horrible person."

"Aw," Bebe murmurs, grabbing his head and kissing the top of it. "Craig, don't think about it like that. No one is judging you. Kenny was being a fucking asshole."

"Everyone slips up," I remind him. "Don't worry."

"Trust me, Craig," Bebe adds. "We've all been there… multiple times. Man, I could tell you some stories about even Clyde that would make you feel a hell of a lot better."

I snort at that, knowing she's more than right. I've had my fair share of shitty, drunken episodes.

"All right," Craig relents for now.

"So, how do you feel?" Bebe asks.

"Bad," he answers with a shrug.

"Want me to walk you home?" I offer.

"Please," he accepts.

I feel like my entire life revolves around Craig. I guess it always has. Nothing much has changed since he woke up and lost his memories.

I find his things for him and then we bid Bebe a, "See you later," before leaving. It's bright outside and Craig winces as we make our way down the driveway.

For a while, we're both silent. Craig's eyebrows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain.

"How are you and Kenny?" I decide to ask.

"Ugh," he moans. "I feel like all I do is cry when I'm with him."

I frown at that and quite frankly it's impossible to imagine. I've never seen him cry in all my years of knowing him.

"What are you going to do?" I pry. "I mean… it goes without saying but you can't let things stay like this. It's not healthy."

"I know," he murmurs. "My parents are going away this weekend and Ruby is going to be staying with a friend… I was going to ask him to come over so we could spend some time working through things. I mean, I want to make it work… but maybe I should just end things. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get through to him."

"Yeah," I tell him. "You should. It might be hard in the short run, but in the long run you'll be glad to be rid of him."

"I just…" he pauses and sighs. "I like him a lot… Maybe I more than like him. I know it's stupid because he doesn't treat me right, but I can't help it. It's only been two months, but I still feel attached."

"I know," I say softly.

His frown deepens. "I mean… maybe if he was sober he'd be different and he'd stop taking it out on me…"

"Craig, don't bother thinking shit like that," I tell him. "It'll only drive you nuts. Kenny has to take responsibility for his actions. It doesn't matter whether or not he's drunk or high. Abuse is abuse."

"Yeah…" Craig relents.

* * *

Instead of calling Kenny over for the weekend, Craig calls me over. Part of me is glad, but the other part of me realizes that he's just trying to distract himself and waste time.

On Saturday, I tell him to call Kenny – whether he's going to patch things up or end things. I hope it's the latter option, but I have a feeling it won't be. Craig keeps letting this drag on and on and on. I don't know why.

Craig lets out a long sigh. He digs his phone out of his pocket and sends the message.

* * *

Kenny doesn't respond. Instead, he simply shows up at the door an hour later.

"Craig," he greets coolly. "You've called me here to dump me, haven't you?" he assumes right off the bat.

"No, I –" Craig tries, only to be cut off a split second later.

"Well, too bad! I'm going to dump you first," he declares, pushing his way inside and moving into the living room area.

"What?" Craig asks hoarsely.

"The truth is, I never liked you," Kenny says with a shrug. "First you were an asshole and now you're just annoying and clingy. You did a lot of fucked up things to me when I was a kid. You gave me years of hell. I know you don't remember any of it now, but it doesn't mean it was erased. It doesn't mean I don't remember it and it doesn't let you off the hook."

Shit.

I can tell things are going to get bad fast. Kenny is already heating things up.

Craig tilts his head to the side, looking confused and worried at the same time. "What do you mean?"

"Um… should I leave?" I cut in and Craig shakes his head frantically. So, I stay.

Kenny looks impatient, like he's frustrated he has to take the time to explain why he hates Craig. "When we were kids, you'd make fun of me for being small. You'd push me around and knock me down and spit on me. Sometimes you'd throw rocks. It was pretty fucked up. _You_ were pretty fucked up. You were so violent. Everyone knew my dad beat me. Why the hell would you beat on a kid who was already being smacked around by his own father? My life sucked enough already, you just made it that much worse. When we were thirteen, I started growing. You stopped growing. You stopped growing before anyone else and you weren't the tallest kid anymore. I think that was the universe's way of giving you what you deserved and putting you in your place. You stopped bullying me after I experienced a series of intense growth spurts. You just started mouthing off at people, trying to make yourself sound bigger than you looked. You felt small. You must have always felt that way."

Craig glances away, unable to maintain eye contact. "I'm sorry," he whispers, sounding sincere and solemn.

"I don't like men," Kenny confesses offhandedly. "So many of us are horrible. You were especially horrible. I hated you for a long time."

"What?" Craig croaks, looking back at the blond.

"I _hated_ you," Kenny says again and the words come out with such little effort. "You were shit. There were times I wanted to fucking kill you for being such an asshole to me. That hatred never really went away."

"I'm not that person anymore," Craig reasons shakily.

"To me, you are," Kenny admits. "I thought… to fuck you and to fuck you up would be justice. I'd dominate you, violate you and then I'd call it love. You believed me and you always forgave me."

Craig's lower lip trembles, but then he stops, taking a deep breath. "That's really mean, you know."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black," Kenny responds.

"I'm not that person anymore!" Craig repeats himself, raising his voice. It sounds wet, like he might lose it any second and the thought of being a bad person is making him miserable.

"Lots of guys fantasize about _fucking_ you," Kenny says cruelly, "but they don't want to do it because they love you. They want to do it because they _hate_ you. They want to dominate you and humiliate you and hurt you and show you that you are no longer the one with the power. So, that's what I did and, God, it felt good. I mean… like I said, I don't like men… but I guess you weren't bad. A hole is a hole. You have a nice face, especially when you're making those lovely, lewd expressions." Kenny pauses, emitting a laugh as he watches the shame on Craig's face. He stands in front of Craig, swinging back and forth on his heel. When their faces are nearly touching, Craig backs away and breaks eye contact, unable to stare at the blond asshole any longer. Kenny pushes him against the nearest wall, trapping him between his arms. "The thing is –" he starts again, but I cut him off.

"Stop talking," I bite out, choosing to be the first to respond because I know Craig won't be able to.

"Don't interrupt me," Kenny says indignantly, releasing Craig and eyeing me. "I'm not done."

"You're a shitty person," I respond.

Kenny just shrugs at me before glancing over at Craig. "You're thoroughly used up now. No one will want you like that."

With wide eyes, Craig stares at the floor. He doesn't say anything. He doesn't stick up for himself. He doesn't talk back. He doesn't throw any insults. He just stays silent.

I continue to stand here awkwardly, unsure what more I should do. Should I stay quiet and continue to watch? Should I intervene again? Should I leave? No. I should stay. I need to be here for Craig when Kenny leaves.

"I wanted to see how far I could push you," Kenny continues. "I thought it'd be a fun game, something interesting to pass the time with. Every time I did something fucked up, I thought you'd run… but you always took it. I guess you're a bit weak. Every time, I'd up my game. I'd do something a little worse. Yet… you still stuck around. You'd brush off all the bad things. You let me get away with so much. Why?"

All I can do is stare. I glance at Craig, who looks beyond tormented. When he blinks, I see the first tear slip down his cheek. "Stop…" he pleads wetly, sounding like he's unable to hear another word. "Don't say anything more…" I've never seen him like this before. There's no conviction in his words. He just sounds lifeless.

"Aw," Kenny coos, moving forward and grabbing Craig's cheeks. "Your crying face is so cute. It makes me want to tease you even more."

Craig weakly tries to push him away, but Kenny grabs his wrists.

"You're crying," Kenny states, staring at Craig with a guiltless expression. "You're crying and I don't feel anything. I've never felt anything good for you. No sympathy. No remorse. No fondness. And all those times you cried when we fucked… I'd look down at you sobbing beneath me and I couldn't care less. You managed to turn me on, but I still didn't feel anything for you. Then again, maybe I'm just a sadist because I liked it when you didn't."

Craig lurches forward, letting out a harsh sob. "Stop!" he pleads again, choking out the word.

"No!" Kenny shouts back at him. "I'm not done yet! I'm not done telling you how I feel!"

That's it. Fuck this.

"Your heart is _cold_!" I yell at him.

"Craig made it that way," Kenny responds curtly.

A lie. His father got there before Craig could do a damn thing.

Without further ado, I move forward and tear him away from Craig. I grab a fistful of his shirt and punch him square in the face as hard as I can. I let go and he falls backwards onto the floor. Blood immediately starts pouring from his nose and my knuckles start to sting, but it was worth it.

"Fuck!" he shouts, pinching the bridge. He rises to his feet and leaves without another word, leaving me alone with Craig.

I hope this is it.

I hope he never comes back.

When I glance at Craig, his bloodshot eyes are wide but he's completely still. His cheeks are wet and tears keep falling, but he doesn't budge or make a sound. It's like he's in shock. It's killing me to see him like this. Everything about it is so fucking wrong.

"Craig…?" I say his name slowly and cautiously.

"Why'd this have to happen?" he asks me helplessly.

"I don't know," I say softly, "but you didn't deserve it."

"Oh, God…" he cries, letting out a string of gut-wrenching sobs. "Yes, I did!"

"No, you didn't," I insist.

"It hurts!" he shouts, like he's only just realizing it. He claws at his chest and stares down, unable to maintain eye contact with me. His crying just grows louder and I've never seen grief like this before. He places his palms over his eyes and continues shrieking. "I don't want to be a bad person…!"

Feeling nauseous, I move forward and wrap my arms around him. I put a hand on the back of his head, gently pushing his face against my shoulder. "You're not a bad person," I say in the softest way possible. "People can change, Craig. You did and I'm so fucking sorry Kenny did this."

He lets out long keening sounds, crying like a child – completely unrestrained. It's probably something he's needed to do for a damn long time.

I rub circles around his back, but I don't say anything else. In all honesty, I don't know what to say. It's hard seeing him in this much pain. I wish I could take it all away, but I can't. This is all I can do and it isn't much.

Even at his worst, I don't think this kind of manipulation is something Craig would have been capable of. Kenny is just as cruel, but in different ways. These ways are potentially more dangerous for reasons such as this. Craig's attacks were always spontaneous. This wasn't. This was planned. This was long-term revenge for something done by a completely different person. That's just it, isn't it? The old Craig is gone. None of this is fair.

You build someone up only to knock them down. People never suspect the ones who treat them so kindly to be the ones to tear them apart. It's too damn cruel.

I don't know what will happen now. I don't want Craig to do anything he'll regret. So, invite myself to stay the night. It's something we've never done, even as kids. Craig never used to allow people into his room.

It feels like hours before Craig finally draws back. When he does, he moves like a zombie up the stairs. I follow after him and we move into his room. Without bothering to undress, he pours himself into bed, dropping lifelessly onto his mattress. I sit down next to him and put a hand on his back. He rolls onto his side, staring off into space.

"I let him do so many horrible things to me…" he whispers wetly. "Why? Why did I let him do those things…?"

"I don't know," I say quietly.

"I feel like I'm dying," he moans, pressing his face into the mattress. His shoulders are shaking.

I lie down next to him and stare up at the ceiling. I don't know what to tell him. I don't know if I should reassure him and promise him it will pass, or if I should tell him Kenny isn't worth it. Nothing sounds right. I feel like I'm incapable of forming a sentence eloquent enough to express the amount of sympathy I feel. So, all I do is apologize again. "I'm really sorry."

After a moment, he sits up. He looks airy-headed. "I want to hate him, but I can't…"

"Craig… I want to ask something," I start cautiously. "I'm not trying to victim-blame you when I ask this… but why did you stay with him after everything that happened? Did he threaten you?"

He stares down at me for a split second before looking away once more. "I don't know," he whispers. "He said things… He said people hated me… and I knew that was true because of the way people acted around me. Even you hinted at it enough times for me to realize it. He said he was the only person who would love me and I guess I felt trapped. I wanted to be loved, so I took the bad with the good because I thought that's how it had to be for someone like me. I was always too careful. I tried too hard."

I feel my guts twisting around in my stomach. "He was lying…" I murmur before telling him, "I love you, dude. I always have and always will."

And I guess it's true… but I won't tell him what kind of love it is I feel. He doesn't need to hear that right now. He just needs to know that I'm there for him – even if he gets his memories back and becomes moody and distant again. Maybe I've always felt this way.

"That's sweet," he says, forcing a smile only to falter a split second later.

"You don't need to pretend around me," I tell him. "Cry if you want. Shout if you want. Talk about him if you want. I don't mind. I'll listen."

He lets out a shuddery breath, staring down at his hands and starting to fidget. "I feel like I'm going crazy," he whispers. "I don't know how to cope and get over this… I don't know if I can. He still has pictures and videos of me…"

"Yeah," I murmur.

He rubs his palms up and down his face. "He's going to put them online… I know he is… If he had no problem showing people them then he'll have no problem showing the world."

"We can go to the police if he does that…" I offer.

Craig shakes his head. "It'd be too late. I swear if he does that I'm just going to kill myself."

"Don't!" I exclaim, sitting up with him.

"Why?" he asks bitterly. "I can't bear the thought of it… of my body being on display like that for everyone to see. I don't want it to happen and if it does then there's no point in anything anymore."

"Don't talk like that…" I plead. "I'll take care of it, okay? It's really late now, but tomorrow morning I'll go find Kenny and I'll take the memory card from his phone."

With a soft sigh, he relents and nods his head.

"I wish someone slapped some sense into me before things got this far," Craig murmurs out of the blue. "I took so much from him… It hurts to think about it."

"A lot of people don't understand that they're being abused," I try to explain. "It's not your fault. It's his. He's a shitty person. You're not."

"I _was_ ," Craig corrects me.

"But you're not _now_ ," I argue. "And now is what matters."

"I cried the first time we slept together," Craig scoffs at himself. "I couldn't help it. I don't know if it was because it hurt or if it was because I just wasn't emotionally ready. Maybe it was both… but I kind of forced myself to get used to it because I knew Kenny wouldn't stay with me if I didn't spread my legs for him." A pause. "He once shoved his dick so far down my throat I thought I was gonna puke," he whispers, sounding ashamed. "He wanted to come on my face. I said no but he did it anyway, saying he wanted to try it at least once. He said sorry afterward. It hurt every time we did anything. I don't know why. Maybe I was doing something wrong. Maybe I was always too nervous… So, I just pretended everything was fine."

"It's not supposed to hurt," I tell him gently. "It's supposed to feel good. He should have made you feel comfortable. Clearly, he didn't. It's not your fault. I doubt you did anything wrong. It was probably him. He probably wasn't being careful. I mean… it's a lot to handle when you think about it. To have sex warrants a lot of trust, but to have that kind of sex especially warrants a lot of trust and clearly he was taking advantage. It isn't something you should have forced yourself to get used to. It should have happened naturally. It should have happened when you felt comfortable enough to let it happen. Everything should have been in mutual consent. You shouldn't feel like you ever need to please people. You need to be a little selfish sometimes and just think about yourself, you know?"

"Fine," is all Craig says.

"Don't ever settle," I tell him.

"Fine," he says again. "Do you want me to stop talking?"

"No, keep talking and I'll keep listening. Talk all night if you want. I'll stay up with you." I pat the mattress, silently telling him to lie back down. He does so, inching towards me.

"Is this okay?" he asks, laying his head on my shoulder.

I put my arm around him. "Yeah, it's okay."

It's more than okay. I want him to stay this close forever. It feels good. It feels right. He's warm. I can hear him breathing.

Ever since the first time I pushed him away, I promised myself I'd never do it again.

I know Craig wouldn't have had to experience this if he never lost his memories. Maybe this, like so many other things, is my fault, too. I want to apologize to him, but the words still won't come out. I'm scared and I don't want him to hate me.

* * *

Kenny and Craig had things in common. They were both hurt and it took a toll. I feel like, in another life, they could have worked through it… but everything seemed to go wrong. Craig turned mean. So did Kenny. Unfortunately, Craig forgot all about it and became an open target.

It's Sunday now and Craig is still asleep against my shoulder. I don't dare shift because I don't want to wake up. He needs as much sleep as he can get. He'll probably be upset when he wakes up.

I have work today, but I'll call in sick. Craig needs me more.

I close my eyes and think. I don't know what to do about Kenny or the pictures. I don't know how I should handle it. The situation is pretty delicate. One false move and with the click of a button Kenny can send those pictures into cyber space. Then it's too late. Once it's on the internet it's out there forever.

Eventually, Craig shifts and sits up.

"Hey," I greet him. "Good morning.

"Mm…" he mumbles groggily in response.

"How do you feel?" I ask, though it's probably a pretty stupid question. He undoubtedly feels like shit.

"Bad," he responds.

"He wasn't good enough for you," I say simply.

Craig scoffs loudly, turning to face me. "You're wrong… He was exactly right for me. He gave me what I deserved."

I let out a sharp sigh. "No, you're wrong, Craig! We've been over this before. You're not a bad person and you _didn't_ deserve this!"

"You're the only person who seems to like me for all that I am and all that I was," Craig whispers offhandedly and I can tell he isn't hearing a damn word that comes out of my mouth.

"We all like you, Craig," I say. "Bebe, Red, Token, Nichole, Tweek, Kevin… Hell, even Jason has a soft spot for you these days. Plus, what about your mom and dad and sister? People do love you."

"It doesn't feel like it," he murmurs. "They probably feel like they walk on eggshells around me."

I sit up and touch his shoulder. "Come on, don't think like that."

"It's hard not to," he says tersely. He bends over, pressing his face into the mattress. "God, I'm so stupid…"

"No, you're not," I tell him, rubbing his back.

This is such a fucking mess. This is so much worse than anything I anticipated and I don't know how it can possibly get better.


	6. November: The aftermath

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Sorry I've been dead on this site. I'll try to update once or twice a week from here on~ thanks to everyone who is reviewing nicely.**

* * *

Kenny is MIA. According to his brother and sister he is in Denver on a _business_ trip for his parents, but who the fuck knows.

I told Kevin what his brother did in vague words. He said he'd talk to him about it. Kevin has always been a little more reasonable than Kenny. Sure, he's a complete moron… but at least he has a good heart. I trust that he'll talk to Kenny, but the words might not register. Kenny can't be reasoned with when it comes to Craig. I would know. I've fucking tried on multiple occasions.

When I'm not at work I'm with Craig. When he's not at work, he spends his time locked away in his bedroom. He hasn't told anyone what Kenny did. All he said is that he got dumped. Laura and Thomas have continuously questioned me on it, but I can't tell them. Craig would hate it.

I'm on my way to his house now. I told him I'd be over as soon as I was finished my shift at the Book Depository.

On the main road I spot Jason. "Hey!" I call and he holds up an arm before crossing the street to meet me. "What's up?" I ask him.

"On my way to work," he replies. "You?"

"I just got off work," I say. "I'm on my way to see Craig now."

"Where's he been lately?" Jason asks. "I never see him around. Then again, I've also been kind of MIA."

I wrinkle my nose and shrug. "You've probably heard… but Kenny and him are no longer together."

"What did that white trash bastard do?" Jason asks expectantly, sighing.

"He dumped Craig brutally," I say vaguely.

"Hm…" Jason murmurs. "Well, if I see him around I'll kick the shit out of him."

I snort at that, though he's probably only kidding. "Good."

After that, we part ways and I run the rest of the way to Craig's house. When I arrive, I can hear angry music blasting. I knock, but there is no answer. Of course. I let myself in and cup my hands over my ears. Jesus Christ, I can feel it in my chest it's so loud!

I kick off my shoes, hang up my coat and run upstairs. Craig isn't in his room, but his radio is blasting death metal. I didn't even think Craig liked this kind of music. I turn it off and let out a breath. Christ.

I pick up the CD and grimace. Cannibal Corpse? Lovely. I set it back down and call his name.

" _Clyde_?" I hear a second later. It's coming from the bathroom across the hall. I knock on the door before letting myself in and I see Craig in the bath.

"Here you are," I say.

"Ah… it _is_ you," he murmurs airily. "I was worried you were someone else."

"Nope, just me."

He pulls his legs to his chest and puts his chin on his knees. There's a bottle of Captain Morgan's sitting on the edge. Not a good sign. "It's weird," he murmurs aloud, almost like he's saying it to himself.

"What is?" I ask him. I stare at the floor, feeling awkward because I'm not sure where I'm supposed to be looking. He's talking to me, but should I be polite and keep my eyes averted? Or should I look at him while he's bathing?

He lets out a sigh and I glance up. He's staring down at the water and away from me. "It's like… I feel so bad that I almost feel numb."

"I get that," I tell him.

He turns his head slightly and looks at me. His eyes are red and swollen and puffy, but they're dry. "How?"

"Uh, well, I didn't ever tell you about it, but my mom passed away years ago," I say with a shrug. "I was fighting with her a lot before it happened and I never got to patch things over. She died on her way to work. There was a big accident at the intersection near the old high school. Some drunk alcoholic moron who was driving home from the bar at 9AM hit her. That was that. I just kind of got lost in my own head for a few months. I felt so guilty and horrible and it was overwhelming. In the end, I guess the only way I could cope was by going a little numb."

"I'm really sorry," Craig says sincerely.

"Ah, thanks," I respond with another shrug. I try to play it off, but it's still something that kind of hurts to think about.

He takes the bottle and takes a long, cringe-worthy sip. "Ugh…" he whines before doing it again.

"Might want to slow down," I warn him.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he pulls the plug and stands up. I stare, but he doesn't notice. I can't fucking help it. Every inch of him is perfect. He's so beautiful. I watch as he grabs a towel and dries his limbs. He doesn't seem to care that I'm here.

After discarding the towel, he walks past me and across the hall. I follow him and then we're standing face to face. He looks so fucking miserable. It's not fair. He escaped all his shitty memories and he was a changed person. He didn't deserve to get taken advantage of like this. Now he has more shitty memories to overwrite the old, forgotten ones.

"Clyde…" he says my name, curling his fingers into my shirt.

"What is it, Craig?" I ask him. I put my hands on his bare shoulders and he feels so fucking small. I always forget how small he is because I'm used to him acting large.

"I feel like I'm going crazy," he confesses weakly, pushing his face into my chest.

"You're not," I promise him.

His shoulders start to shake and just when I think he's crying he begins to laugh. He sounds hysterical. His grip on my shirt tightens momentarily and then he lets go, drawing away and covering his mouth as he tries to quiet himself.

"Uh…" I pause. "Are you okay?"

"No," he says, staring off into empty space.

"Um… Do you want to put some clothes on?"

"No," he says again. "It doesn't really matter, does it?" He glances at me, letting his hand fall to his side. He steps forward and before I can ever register the movement he's pushing his lips into mine. For a moment, I kiss him back because I want to so fucking badly… but then I stop. God, that took a painful amount of self-control.

"We can't," I tell him hoarsely.

"Why?" he asks, sounding dejected.

"B-because it wouldn't be right," I explain. "You're upset and I'd be taking advantage of you. I don't want to do that."

"Get out, Clyde," he murmurs.

"Wait, we should –" I try to tell him we should TALK ABOUT THIS, but he refuses to hear it.

"Get out!" he shouts pleadingly. He moves away and reaches for the radio, turning it on. The awful music starts blasting once more. Craig crawls into bed and faces the wall, forcing me to stare at his back. I don't want to leave, but he doesn't want me to stay.

I say his name one last time, but my voice is completely drowned out by the sound of his music. So, I give up and go downstairs.

I put my shoes back on, grab my coat and leave.

God, this fucking sucks ass. Craig finally kissed me and it wasn't for the reason I wanted it to be.

I walk down the driveway miserably and spot Ruby when I turn down the road.

"Hey, what're you doing?" I ask her.

"Wasting time," she admits with a frown. "School is over, but I don't really want to go home."

I nod for her to follow me. "Let's take a walk, then."

She smiles a small smile and side-by-side we continue down the street. "Craig is moody lately."

"I know," I say. "He's really low right now… So, just try to be patient and kind. He needs it now."

"Yeah," she mumbles. "It's just hard. It reminds me of the way he used to be. I hated him like that. I mean, I loved him at the same time because he's my brother and all… but I hated him, too. Everyone did and if he keeps this up they'll all hate him again. Even my parents were scared of him and now they're just scared he'll start lashing out again."

"I understand," I sympathize. I feel like I'm the only person in the world who has never felt hatred towards Craig. I can't help but wonder if his parents have ever felt it. "He's in there listening to loud, angry music."

"He's been doing that all week," she says. "My parents make him turn it off when they get home, but they're usually at work. I hate being there when they're at work.

"I don't think he really knows how to cope with the way he's feeling right now," I say.

She lets out a sad sigh. "Things were so good... I thought things had finally changed for the best. The entire situation was tragic, but I couldn't help thinking maybe it was for the best. Then this happens."

"If this happened to Craig before the crash he would have probably killed Kenny," I say bluntly. "Then again, Craig never would have gone near Kenny – not even with a fifty-foot-long pole…"

"I like Karen, but her brother is a piece of shit," Ruby murmurs.

"Why is he like that?" I pry. "Because of his dad?"

Ruby shrugs and nods. "Probably. Stuart fucks around with Kenny and Carol kinda just lets him. She cheated and she thinks the only way Stuart will let her live it down is if he's allowed to make Kenny's life hell, since he's the proof of it. So, he does. Kevin and Karen try to stay away from telling Kenny how he should live his life. The entire situation is pretty hopeless. I'm not supposed to talk about it… but it's probably why Kenny is the way he is. It's sad and shit, but I guess it's no excuse."

"Yeah," I agree. "I guess."

"I mean, I don't know the whole story…" she continues, "but I know he did something really fucking bad to Craig. That much is obvious. Even my parents have realized that this isn't just a normal breakup."

"It was bad," I say vaguely. "I was there when it happened. I snapped. I punched Kenny in the face. I wanted to fucking murder him on the spot… He's the cruellest person in the world."

Ruby nods solemnly. "Karen tells me about Kenny sometimes. When I hear the things she says, I realize it was inevitable. Kenny will never be normal or okay. It's just not possible now. I feel like he could have gone the opposite way. Kids who are abused… Sometimes they'll shut down. Sometimes they'll grow meek. Sometimes they'll grow angry. Anything can happen, really. Kenny is just so unbelievably angry. It's scary, though, because he pretends he's not and he's so damn good at acting."

"On top of that, he's manipulative as fuck," I add distastefully.

"Yeah," Ruby sighs. "It's sad… I feel like I just got back the brother I never knew and then this happens. I really… really hate Kenny for it. I think Craig is about ready to lose it."

"He already has," I mutter. "He freaked at me."

Ruby frowns. "When me, Mom and Dad are around he just lies in bed. He doesn't cry and shout; he just lies still and stays quiet. He doesn't listen when we try to talk or get him out of bed. It's like he's depressed."

I shrug my shoulders. I wish Kenny never said those things. Even if he felt them, I wish he kept it to himself. I don't really know how Craig is going to get over it. I can't help but put myself in his shoes. If that happened to me I don't know what I would do. It's hard to even imagine it. I'd feel so hopeless. Craig probably feels that way, too.

* * *

Next week, I manage to pull Craig out of bed long enough to take him to the café. Tweek is working today. He greets Craig with a smile that shows unhidden sympathy. I buy Craig coffee, hoping it might liven him up a bit.

As Tweek hands us our drinks, Jason enters the café. I hold up my hand and he looks hesitant. It's weird… especially since he's such an outspoken douche.

"Uh… hey," he says, nodding to Craig.

"Hi…" Craig responds quietly.

After that Jason walks up to the cash register and orders.

Well, that was awkward as fuck.

I put a hand on Craig's shoulder and lead him into a booth. "What's going on with you two?" I ask as we sit down.

"I tried to get Jason to sleep with me," Craig confesses, wrinkling his nose.

"What?" I nearly choke.

Craig lets out a sigh, looking like he's ashamed of the experience. "At first we were just kissing but eventually were both undressed and he was kneeled between my legs literally about to put it in… but I don't know what happened. He hesitated. Maybe it was the look on my face, but he just stared at me and said what we were doing probably wasn't right. I said I didn't care, but he said he _did_ care… So, we stopped."

"Shit," I murmur. "Do you like Jason now?"

"No…" Craig says. "I just wanted to… to feel something better, I suppose. All I could think about was Kenny and letting him fuck me and then Jason invited himself over to see how I was doing and I just… couldn't help myself. I wanted to overwrite the old experiences with someone new."

How fucking sad is that.

As Jason leaves the café he spares Craig one more glance before booking it.

Craig stares down into his coffee. "Every time I leave the house I get stressed out. I keep thinking everyone is staring at me. I keep assuming that they know what happened or they saw pictures of me. I don't know… I don't know where Kenny is or who he's been showing them to."

"If he does anything else with those pictures I swear I'll fucking kill him," I bite out. I get so angry thinking about it.

"I'll just kill myself instead," Craig mutters.

"Stop saying that!" I snap.

"Shut up!" he snaps back. "Seriously, shut the fuck up! I feel bad, Clyde! Nothing is going to fix that! It's ruined. _I'm_ ruined. Nothing is going to fix that! NOTHING!"

I'm taken aback – partly because of his tone, but mostly because he cursed and he hasn't done that in a damn long time. I glance around the café. Luckily we're the only two people seated. Tweek is staring at us, though. He looks worried, but he doesn't come over and pry. He knows better than that. Instead, he stays put and minds his own business.

"Craig, you're not going to kill yourself," I tell him firmly. "Just drink you're coffee and we'll go back to your house and talk."

Begrudgingly, he relents.

We're both silent as we finish our drinks and when we're both done we leave. I wave to Tweek and then we take to the streets. It's snowing out and Craig is shivering. I throw an arm around him, keeping him close as we trek through the heaps of freshly fallen flurries.

When we reach his house we pile inside and stomp the snow off out boots before taking them off. We hang up our jackets and then go straight to Craig's room. The lights are off and he doesn't bother turning them on.

"It's not normal to feel this bad," he murmurs, sitting on the edge of the mattress.

"You were wronged," I say, sitting next to him. "Of course you feel that way."

"How can it get better?" he asks me.

I wish I knew all the answers, but I don't. So, I tell him, "I don't know, Craig. I think it depends how you handle it. It depends how other people handle it, too. It depends on a lot of things."

"I think I could live with private humiliation," he admits. "I mean… it makes me really sad, but I could still live with it. However… if everyone knows and if everyone sees… I can't handle that. I literally won't be able to live with it. I'm a private person. I don't want people to see the parts I like to keep a secret."

"I know," I sympathize. "What goes around comes around, right? He'll get what he has coming to him."

"I don't know about that," Craig murmurs. "Maybe he already has and now it's my turn. I was a bad guy. Kenny was treated like garbage and now he's the one treating other people that way. Maybe there's a scale and we're not supposed to tip it. Maybe this is how things have to even out again."

"Craig," I sigh his name. "You don't deserve this. Stop saying you do. You didn't have this coming. No one deserves this. It's not fair. It's evil. What Kenny did… What he's doing… He's tormenting you."

"Just like I used to torment him," Craig mentions yet again.

I let out another sigh, but I don't respond. I can't. I don't know what else I can say. Nothing I say is going to change the way he feels.

I really hope Kenny gets what he deserves.

* * *

Instead of going straight home, I decide to go visit Jason. I want to talk to him. I want his side of the story.

Jason's parents gamble. They lose a lot of money that way and Jason has always had to look after himself. His family life sucks. That's why he's such a douche. It's not an excuse, it's just a fact. I guess he has that in common with Kenny. Maybe that means Craig has a type. Ha… let's hope not.

It doesn't take me long to arrive at his doorstep. I knock and Jason opens the door. "Hey," he greets, nodding for me to step inside.

I do and then I say, "You probably know why I'm here."

"Yeah," he responds.

We move into his room and it's is ridiculously messy. There's an empty carton of Tropicana orange juice in the corner of the room along with an old pair of sneakers and some bottles of tequila. Clothing is scattered and the floor is barely visible. It's kind of depressing to see how he lives.

"I'd offer you a drink, but we don't really have anything except tap water," he says with a shrug.

"It's cool," I tell him. I feel myself frown and I'm overcome with all these sad feelings. "Dude… Look, if you ever need a place to crash you know you're welcome at my place, right?"

"Thanks," he responds carelessly, "but I'm leaving soon. I'm saving up and getting an apartment. My parents probably won't even notice I'm gone until they realize no one is paying the rent."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize. I feel for him. Really, I do. I think if I suddenly left it would take my father a while to notice it, too.

Jason sits on the edge of his bed and smiles. It's hardly sincere. "So, say what you came to say."

"You and Craig almost had sex?" I ask, sitting down next to him.

He lets out a sigh, looking like he's embarrassed about it. "It was so fucked up! _He's_ so fucked up!"

"Come on…" I reason. "He's hurting."

Jason turns to me. "He started it, okay?"

"It doesn't matter who started it," I tell him.

"Yeah, okay, he's a good looking guy, but I don't like dudes," Jason says.

I roll my eyes. "Trust me, I know. You're a walking no-homo, Jason. I don't need reminding."

He lets out another sigh. "It was so fucking weird… I mean, if he wasn't so depressed and out of it I probably still would have fucked him… but I couldn't."

"That's a good thing," I tell him.

"He started whining and crying afterward," Jason adds. "It was so fucking awkward. I didn't know what the fuck I was supposed to do. I just kind of patted him awkwardly and we were both still naked and I had a fucking boner… Like, how the fuck did I even get myself into a situation like that?"

"I don't know," I say dully, but I can tell Jason isn't finished talking yet.

He leans closer and whispers, "He literally tried to seduce me."

"Clearly he succeeded," I say.

He back away and shakes his head in disbelief. "Man," he groans some more. "I can't believe I literally made out with Craig Tucker… We used to fucking beat kids up together. It's too fucking weird. He's gone all… soft and clingy."

"Dude, shut up."

Jason continues complaining and trying to compensate for his gay experience. I just roll my eyes at everything he says.

* * *

At the end of the month word gets out that Craig is trying to hook up. How? I don't fucking know. That's what I've been trying to figure out.

We're at a house party now. We came with Bebe, Kyle and Red because they insisted upon it. By now we lost them all and I just caught some guy trying to feel Craig up. I chase him away and help Craig stand. He's completely incoherent. I put an arm around him and we are about to leave when I notice someone familiar.

Apparently Kenny is back and he's covered in hickeys and bruises. I don't really know why. He spots us almost immediately. A leering grin spreads across his face and he approaches us. "Hey, slut," he greets Craig. "I was looking for you."

"Why?" Craig whines, hanging off of my shoulder. It fucking kills me that he actually answers to it.

"Rumor has it you're looking for a hook up," Kenny mentions.

"He's not!" I cut in because I know that the conversation is going down a dangerous road. "Stop telling people that!"

"I'm not," Kenny says.

"Yeah, you are!" I insist.

"I'm not," he says again.

"Then who the fuck is?" I demand, but Kenny simply shrugs. There's a smile plastered onto his face. I want to slap him and wipe it off, but I also don't want to give him time to talk to Craig. So, I lift Craig up and leave the house. Unfortunately, Kenny follows us, taunting Craig with lewd insults the entire time.

"Stop…!" Craig moans at me, struggling out of my grip. "You're pressing on my stomach… Ugh, I'm going to be sick…"

I promptly drop him near a snow bank and he immediately dumps his guts out.

"Yuck!" Kenny exclaims. He lifts a foot, putting his boot on Craig's back. Before I can stop him he's pushing Craig into his own vomit. "Ew…!" he laughs and I can't fucking understand how he can be so evil.

Craig sits up, frantically wiping off his face before rising to his feet. He wipes his face off, not saying a damn word.

I shove Kenny and we start to fight, but since I'm broader than him I have the upper hand. Still, he gets in a few good hits and I'll probably have a bruise in the morning.

Kenny lets out a heaving breath when we separate, staring at me with a look of hatred.

After that, Craig turns around and punches Kenny square in the face. Kenny punches him back, immediately knocking Craig out. Once Craig is down for the count I cut in. I roughly grab Kenny by the jacket and start wailing on him again until my knuckles are sore. The entire time he's hitting me back, but I swear I hardly feel it. I guess it's the adrenaline. I'm so damn angry and I can't believe how much I fucking hate him!

Once I'm satisfied I give him a harsh shove and then pick Craig up, dragging him down the street and leaving Kenny bloody.

* * *

I put Craig on my bed. I don't mind that he's still kind of covered in puke. He can wash off when he wakes up. I take off my jacket and kick my boots into the corner of my room before changing into my pyjamas.

Around midnight, his cellphone starts dinging. I take it out of his pocket and see that there are messages from Kenny. Great. This should be fucking lovely. Unable to help myself, I open them up. There are no words, only pictures. I inhale sharply, flicking through the files and deleting them all. I don't want Craig to see.

I sit down next to him, but I can't sleep. I feel sick to my stomach and I can't help but wonder how this is going to fucking end. What's going to finish it? Or, rather, _who_ is going to finish it? I'm scared to find out. I'm really fucking scared and I have no idea what to do in a situation like this except go to the cops… but Craig would hate that. He'd hate _me_. I can't betray him like that.

Around 1AM Craig stirs, letting out a pained moan as he sits up. He's still drunk as fuck, that much is clear. "Clyde…" he says my name in a whiny, high-pitched voice. "I feel gross…"

"Want to shower?"

He lets out a sob and then says, "Yes."

"Craig, why are you crying?" I ask him.

"I don't fucking know!" he yells, standing up and immediately stumbling. I get out of bed and offer him my hand, walking him across the hall. I turn on the shower taps and he steps out of his boots. I take his jacket and put it in with the dirty laundry.

I leave the room momentarily, fetching him a towel from the linen closet. When I return he's sitting on the toilet seat lid, still fully dressed. He looks completely unaware of his surroundings.

"Craig…?" I say his name in a questioning tone. "Want me to leave?"

"No," he murmurs. "You can stay."

"Just promise not to try anything," I tell him.

He laughs at that, peeling off the rest of his clothes. "Like I could even get it up in this state…" His movements are slow and groggy as he discards his clothing in a pile on the floor. He starts sniffling and I think he's still crying, but he won't face me. I watch his back as he steps into the shower and then I glance at the floor, staring at his clothes. I perch myself up on the counter and wait with the towel on my lap.

This sucks. This sucks, this sucks, this fucking sucks. It more than sucks. Kenny needs to understand that you can't play with people like this. It's how you ruin lives. Then again, maybe that's his goal. Maybe he honestly wants to ruin Craig. Maybe he wants to drive him to fucking suicide. I don't know. All I know is that this isn't going to be a happy ending.

When Craig is done, he pulls back the curtains and I close my eyes, holding the towel out for him. I feel him grab it and I hear him dry off.

"You can borrow some of my clothes to sleep in," I tell him. He mumbles acknowledgement and the two of us cross the hallway, moving back into my room. I dig through my dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He takes them and slips into them, stumbling back and forth. They're pretty baggy, but somehow they suit him. I like seeing him in my clothes.

"I swim in them," he points out.

"Yeah," I say with a small smile. "Sorry."

He only shrugs. "It's okay. It's comfortable."

"Lie down," I tell him. "I'll get you some water."

He nods lightly and I watch him do as I say before leaving the room. I run downstairs and spot my dad in the kitchen.

"You're home…" I say somewhat stupidly.

"I am," he responds. "You have company?"

"Uh, just Craig…" I tell him.

"Keep the noise down," is all he says.

I tell him I will. Then I fill up a glass of water and grab an ice pack before going back upstairs. I close the door and the room is dark. I slowly make my way towards my bed, careful not to trip. I set the ice pack down on the nightstand and then hand Craig the glass. "Here."

"Thanks," Craig responds hoarsely.

"Sip slowly," I tell him. "There's an ice pack on the nightstand. You should press it to your head as you sleep. It'll feel good."

"Okay," he says softly.

After that, I crawl in bed with him. For a while, it's quiet. I hear Craig set the glass down and the bed indents slightly as he lies down.

"Clyde?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you do it?"

I smile wearily to myself. "Yeah, hand it over."

He hands me the ice pack as he gets comfortable. Once he's done I press it against his forehead. "Mm…" he mumbles. "Feels good…"

* * *

It didn't take Craig long to crash. The following day he sleeps like a log through most of the afternoon. He wakes up briefly in the evening, but he doesn't stay awake for long. Mere minutes later, he's once again dead to the world. It's better like this. It's better if he sleeps off the pain of his inevitable hangover.

I stare down at him as he sleeps. He looks content lying there, but I know it's hardly the case.

I feel a lump start to grow in my throat and my eyes begin to burn. I just want him to be happy. Things were so fucking good for a while and now it's all turned to shit again. It's all so damn hopeless.

I let out a sigh and wipe my eyes. There's no use in crying.


	7. December: We need to talk about Kenny

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Thanks for reviewing :) I've got another chapter fic to post directly after I'm done posting this one. I've been writing like crazy lately.**

* * *

I'm currently standing in the park with Craig and Kenny, trying to get those stupid fucking photos from him. Unfortunately, Kenny doesn't seem to be in a giving mood.

"Come on!" I growl impatiently, trying to refrain from using physical force.

Kenny ignores me. Instead he looks at Craig, pointing to his groin and taunting, "I'll give them to you if you suck me off. C'mon, Craig. Show Clyde what a _good boy_ you are. I bet he's dying to see you put that dirty mouth of yours to work."

Craig doesn't react at all. I gotta give him props for it.

"Shut the fuck up," I seethe. "I swear to God if you show anyone else these pictures –"

Kenny laughs. "Oops, too late," he says to me before glancing at Craig and carelessly apologizing with, "Sorry, babe. I couldn't help myself."

I grit my teeth. "You're so fucking _sick_!"

"What are you going to do?" he asks tauntingly. "Hit me? Come on! Do it! Fuck me up, Clyde! Fuck me up like everyone else fucks me up!"

It's unsettling, but I don't respond. I can't. Instead, I accept his challenge and punch him in the face as hard as I can. Just once. Craig shouts at me to stop before I can do it again. So, I release Kenny. He'll have a bruise, but I don't feel bad about it. Before I let him go, I reach into his pocket and grab his cellphone. Then I grab Craig and we leave Kenny stunned and silent.

When we reach the main road, Craig sniffles, taking the phone from me. He erases the photos before breaking the phone and crushing the memory card for good measure.

"How do you feel?" I ask him, staring down at the broken electronic lying on the snow.

"Kind of shitty," he admits with a shrug. "I don't know."

I look at him piteously, unable to wipe the sympathy from my gaze.

"Don't look at me like that!" Craig snaps, pushing me away from him.

I hold up my hands and take a step back. "All right. I'm sorry."

He gives me a look of distastes before wandering off. I follow him, but I keep my distance.

"What now?" he asks out of the blue, staring straight ahead.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I do?"

I let out a quiet breath. "I don't know, Craig… It's up to you."

"I'm bad at making decisions," he states. "You know it and I know it. My decisions always get me in trouble and then shitty things happen. I get myself into stuff my ass can't handle. It's my fault isn't it?"

"No," I tell him, wishing he'd stop blaming himself for everything that comes his way. It isn't like he brought it all on. Sometimes shit just happens.

* * *

Craig is once again working hard to push away all the people in his life. He's moody. He's tired. He's mean. He's lashing out at everyone. They leave his side willingly.

During my next shift at work, Bebe and Red come to visit.

"You've been MIA," Bebe accuses.

"You guys have been MIA, too," I point out, silently hinting for answers. "I've been with Craig."

"Craig is so cranky lately…" Bebe murmurs, frowning. "I feel like everything I say is going to set him off. I don't want to make things worse."

Red nods along with her and adds, "He's hard to be around."

I let out a sigh. "He was hurt bad. Just let him be sad for a while. He'll be back to normal soon enough."

Bebe lets out a loud scoff. "I wouldn't be so sure, Clyde. For Craig, this _is_ normal. He's mean. He can't regulate his emotions properly. It's always been his weakness. His negative emotions are his most intense emotions. He can't handle shit like this."

I know she's right. I fucking know it… but I still want to fight her on it and insist it's not true. Nonetheless, I simply say, "Yeah…"

* * *

After work I make my usual visit to the Tucker residence. It's nearing 9PM, but I know they're all still awake. His entire family are night hawks.

"Where's Craig?" I ask as Laura lets me in.

"In the bathroom," she responds tersely, causing me to feel uneasy. "Clyde, what the fuck is happening to my son?" she whispers sharply, demanding answers. "I feel like I just got him back and now… He's not talking to me anymore. He's pushing everyone away. When I arrived home he was passed out on the floor."

I wince at that. "Shit… Is he still unconscious?"

She lets out a soft sigh. "Yes. I put a blanket over him and left him there. I was going to wait for Thomas to get back so he could carry Craig to his room, but…" she trails off and stares at me. "He won't be getting home until later. Would you do it?"

I force a smile. "Yeah, sure."

So, I make my way upstairs, but before I can open the bathroom door Ruby appears from her bedroom. I hold up my hand and wave at her. I prepare myself for a mouthful of sass, but it doesn't come. Instead, she sighs and is soft spoken as she says, "I want to help him, but I can't."

"I know," I sympathize before pushing open the door. It creaks, revealing Craig. He's lying on the floor in a lump, bare shoulders peeking from beneath a wool blanket. With a sigh, I bend down and begin to pick him up.

"Stop…" he whines drunkenly, pushing me away. He opens bleary eyes, looking at me accusingly.

"You're awake…" I state, pausing.

With drunken, sloppy movements he struggles to push himself into a sitting position. He lets out a pained moan, rubbing his palms over his face.

"Craig?" Ruby asks from her spot in the hallway. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he responds. "Go away."

And she does.

I let out a sigh, watching her leave before returning my attention to Craig. "You can't keep pushing people away, dude," I say, sitting down with him. "I know it hurts, but we can offer you support if you let us."

He doesn't say anything for a moment. He closes his eyes, rubbing his forehead. "Ugh…" he groans. "I can't stop thinking about it… the pictures…" He pauses, staring at me. "How many people do you think saw them?"

"I don't know," I murmur.

"Who do you think saw them?" he asks. "And why?

"Craig, I really don't know," I tell him. "I wish I did. I wish I had all the answers you're looking for, but I don't have any." I stand up and offer him my hand. "Come on, let's get you into bed. You should sleep this off."

He clutches the blanket before taking my hand. I help him up and he stumbles almost immediately, sitting back on the floor. "I give up," he decides. "Carry me."

I bend down and pick him up easily. He doesn't weigh much. We move across the hallway and I set him down in the center of his bedroom before shutting the door.

I move towards his dresser and open the second drawer, where he keeps his pyjamas. I grab him a pair of plaid pants and a navy t-shirt. "Here," I say, handing them to him.

He tries to sit on his bed, but he misses and lands on the floor. "Fuck!" he snaps at himself, sitting up and hitting himself in the head.

"Don't," I tell him, tossing his clothes on the mattress and grabbing his wrists before he can do it again. "Fucking _stop_!" I snap.

His jaw tightens and he breaks eye contact, glancing away. I help pour him into his clothes and once he's modest I feel like I can look at him again. I watch as he crawls onto his bed, sitting up straight against the headboard. He puts the tip of his thumb in his mouth and he still remains silent.

"What are you doing?" I ask.

"Thinking," he murmurs vaguely.

"About…?" I urge.

"How I'm going to kill Kenny," he says.

I raise an eyebrow at that, closing the door to his bedroom. "What the fuck do you mean by that?"

"I'm going to kill him," Craig says decidedly. "I'm seriously going to do it."

"No, you're not," I respond knowingly.

"Yeah, I am," he insists.

"No, you're not," I say again.

"No…" he relents. "I couldn't…" He pushes his hands through his hair, sniffling. "God, this sucks…"

I sit down next to him, unsure what else to say. "Yeah…"

"Sometimes I don't even know what hurts," he confesses quietly. "And all I can do is whine nonstop because I can't figure it out… I feel like I can't even blame Kenny because I've been feeling low for a while. I latched onto him quickly. I guess I was desperately seeking an identity and I felt like he'd give me one. In a way, he did… but it wasn't the identity I was looking for."

"I'm really sorry, Craig…" I whisper.

"Clyde…" he murmurs weakly, letting out soft sobbing sounds.

"What is it, Craig?" I ask, but he doesn't respond. He just keeps saying my name.

I reach for his hand and hold it in mine, but I don't say anything else.

* * *

After forcing him to sip on a glass of water, he begins to sober up slowly. He crashes around 1AM, welcoming a bad headache. Around 4AM, he wakes up and stumbles out of the room. I get up and follow him across the hall and into the bathroom. He doesn't quite make it to the toilet, so he starts puking in the sink instead.

I rub his back and he lets out pained moans and groans.

* * *

I stay with Craig for the next few days in between work. He quit his job. He said he couldn't handle it anymore. I guess I don't blame him for that. Rumors are still floating around about him. I don't know who started them, but if I find out they're dead meat. I'm not sure if I should believe Kenny when he says it wasn't him… Then again, if he did cause Craig more grief he'd probably want to take credit for it.

On the weekend, I end up convincing him to go on a walk with me. He needs fresh air. It's just not healthy to stay locked in your bedroom all day and all night.

We end up spotting Jason, who looks like he's on his way to work. I watch him and Craig exchange awkward greetings before cutting in with, "Have you heard any rumors about Craig lately?"

"Shit," Jason says with a wince. "Yeah… That was me…"

Craig gapes at him. "What?"

"It was an accident!" Jason protests quickly. "I just… I felt weird about the whole thing, so I ended up telling people. I didn't want anyone to find out and start calling me a homo. So… I said you tried to hook up."

Craig grits his teeth together. "You're an asshole."

"I know!" Jason exclaims.

"Whatever," Craig mutters before walking away.

"How would people have figured out you almost fucked Craig?" I ask Jason dully.

"I don't know!" he shouts. "I was paranoid!"

I roll my eyes at him before following after Craig. All I do is follow Craig. I don't know why. I feel scared leaving him alone. I'm worried he'll do something stupid.

I trail after him down the main road. I want to ask him if he's okay, but he's probably not. It'd be a stupid question.

"Craig –" I say his name, but he cuts me off.

"I'm fine!" he shouts, picking up his pace. Once we near his house he slips on a patch of ice and falls backwards. Not one for grace lately, that's for damn sure.

I help him up and say, "No, you're not fine."

"IT DOESN'T MATTER, IT DOESN'T MATTER, IT DOESN'T MATTER!" he screams frantically. He's probably trying pretty damn hard to convince himself of it.

"If it matters to you, then it matters," I tell him.

He looks at me with glassy eyes before turning away and walking up his driveway. He's more cautious. Inside, he throws off his boots and coat, discarding them on the floor. He's angry. He's overwhelmed. He circles the house in a daze, eyebrows drawn together. It's like he doesn't know what he wants to do. He turns into the kitchen and reaches for the back door, opening it and stepping onto the patio.

"Stop!" I shout at him. "You're going to freeze to death!"

"It doesn't matter!" he calls, voice breaking.

"Yes, it fucking does!" I snap. Hesitantly, I step outside after him. I grab him by the waist and drag him back inside. When I release him, he continues wandering around the house like nothing happened.

I follow him for what feels like hours. Eventually, he makes his way into his room and falls asleep. I take his damp socks off and drape the duvet over him. He starts mumbling. I debate on waking him up, but I don't. I just sit on the edge of his bed and listen.

* * *

Token, Nichole and Kevin come back mid-month. I invite them all over and fill them in on all the crap that's been going on since they left.

"Shit," Token deadpans.

"Damn," Kevin states.

"How sad," Nichole offers.

"Yeah…" I murmur. "He's not taking it well, as you can probably assume. A lot of his old personality is coming back."

"Not surprising," Kevin says. "The memory loss probably helped him supress his more _extreme_ personality traits, but being faced with something this shitty brought them back. This is a pretty big deal, so he'll be really volatile."

Nichole nods her head sadly, looking incredibly sympathetic. "It's unfortunate… He was easier to be around. Perhaps that sounds cruel and selfish, but it's true. There was something kinder about him."

"Hey…" I protest. "He's still kind."

They all exchange doubtful glances with one another.

"Bebe has said it to you before, but you're blind when it comes to Craig," Nichole points out. "Even at times when he was so unbelievably cruel, you were still making up excuses to justify his animosity."

"He's my best friend," I say. "It's hard hearing people shit-talk him…"

"You're too kind, Clyde," she continues. "Compassion isn't a bad thing, but there are times when you'll need to stand up for yourself. You let Craig walk all over you. Just promise that if he grows back into his cruelty… promise that you won't let him use you as a doormat."

"Fine!" I exclaim, throwing my hands up. "Shit… you guys make it sound so much worse than it was."

"It was bad, dude…" Kevin says with a shrug. "Since you were the only one that stuck around, he ripped on you even worse."

"He wanted to push me away," I murmur. "I wouldn't leave, though. He felt like he had to try harder. Still, I'd stick by him. I mean… there were times when he could be nice. He wasn't always a piece of shit."

Kevin scoffs at that. "Yeah, he was. Sorry, Clyde, but Craig had no redeeming qualities. Maybe he was a _little_ softer when we were young kids… but he still acted out. He was always beating smaller kids up. He did that until he no longer could… then it was the attitude. He was mean."

"Okay, okay, okay!" I wave my hands around, letting out a long sigh. "Look… does this mean you guys don't want to see him?"

"No, of course not," Token promises. "We just… We think you deserve to know how we feel. We'll always care about Craig and we all want the best for him… but… we've tried so fucking hard in the past, man. It's never worked out. He's pushed and pushed and pushed me away, shouting expletives the entire time. I got sick of it. I don't want a repeat."

"He slapped me once," Kevin adds. "I mean… maybe he thought I deserved it, but it was still a shitty thing to do nonetheless. You shouldn't hit your fucking friends."

I let out a groan. "Why'd he do that?"

"I made the mistake of asking him if he wanted to talk," Kevin says with a bitter laugh. "Never did that again."

"Craig is like very strong and bitter alcohol," Nichole cuts in. "You need to take him in small doses… especially if his old personality returns. For a while, he was sweet and things were fun… but let's be real, most of us knew that wouldn't last. He'd either get his memory back or something worse would happen. I guess this is worse."

"God," I mumble. "This is just like the conversation I had with Red and Bebe a little while ago. They feel like that, too."

"Craig's a negative guy," Token says simply. "It's hard to be around all that negativity. I don't know how you did it for so many years, man."

"It's been hard at times," I admit, "but I love the fuck out of him, even when he's being insane."

Nichole smalls a small smile. "You're a saint, Clyde."

"Ah, no I'm not," I insist.

"Well, you have the patience of one," she chuckles.

I force a laugh, but I just feel sad. It feels like everyone is going against Craig. I don't want him to feel alone – especially not now… not after everything Kenny did. Craig needs support now more than ever. He needs to be assured that his friends will be there for him.

* * *

It's the week before Christmas. I know it's going to suck. Everyone is sad lately. Me, included. I don't want to be the kind of guy who depends on others for happiness, but it's hard to be happy with all this shit going on.

Speaking of shit – Stan pops into the Book Depository on Monday and I can't help but wonder what the fuck he wants.

"Hey…" I greet awkwardly as he approaches the front desk.

"Hey," he echoes.

"Need help finding anything?" I ask him.

"No…"

"So, uh, what's up?"

He shrugs. "Not much… Wendy is back in town."

"Ah, that's right," I recall. "She's in university."

He nods his head. "I was supposed to go, but I backed out at the last minute. So did Kyle. He didn't know what he wanted to do and I didn't want to do anything."

"You work?" I ask.

"At the market," he says unceremoniously. "It sucks, but it's easy money."

"That's cool," I comment and then we fall into an awkward silence.

"So, uh… How's Craig?" Stan asks. He probably doesn't give a rat's ass.

"He's pretty out of it," I say with a shrug. "Kenny is a piece of shit."

"He's been through a lot…" Stan justifies weakly.

"So has Craig," I tell him. "There's no excuse for hurting and humiliating and degrading someone. What Kenny did was beyond wrong. It took planning and the fact that he took so much time to do this is twisted. Nothing Craig ever did to him was planned out like that."

"I know…" Stan admits in a murmur.

"Why are you here, Stan?" I ask him. "Obviously you didn't come to talk about your girlfriend. Let's get down to it, then."

He lets out a long sigh, glancing away and shoving his hands in his pockets. "Okay…" he starts. "I don't want you to keep beating on Kenny."

I scoff loudly. "I'll stop when he stops. Craig has _completely_ given up. That's what Kenny has reduced him to, yet he keeps coming back for more. Tell him to stay the fuck away."

"Look, I'm sorry about your friend," Stan says impatiently, finally turning to face me. "Craig isn't innocent either, you know. I'm sorry Kenny did what he did. I'm sorry he showed us pictures. I'm sorry he played mind games. I know Craig is in pain, but Kenny is in pain, too. I bet he's in a lot more pain than Craig is."

"There's _no_ comparison!" I shout, mentally berating myself for getting temperamental.

Stan's jaw tightens. "That's not what I meant…"

"Then what, pray tell, did you mean?" I ask dryly.

"Kenny's entire life has been hell," Stan explains tersely. "Craig's constant attacks made it worse."

"You already told me this," I remind him. "What does his dad even do to him? No one will say it. Everyone is always so vague."

Stan stares away again. "It doesn't _need_ to be said. Just imagine the worst thing a parent could do to their child. That's what Stuart does to Kenny. I mean… if a person is tortured enough they're bound to snap. Reason is lost to the wind. He feels like a mistake, so he won't blame his father. He feels like he deserves it. I think Kenny really just hates himself most of all but he tries to numb it and blame Craig instead. He takes his self-hatred out on Craig. He probably sees the similarities as well."

It makes me sick to my stomach, but I'm still so fucking angry.

"Christ," I mutter.

"Mm," Stan muses in agreement. "I remember inviting myself to his house when we were fourteen and I walked in on his dad beating the shit out of him. I remember how fucking terrified and small he was. That scared child is still a huge part of Kenny. I was scared, too. His dad scared the shit out of me. He was always so angry and, to us kids, he looked so big because we were so small. I didn't know what to do, so I ran and just pretended I didn't see it… but I wish I told someone. I wish I told my parents. Now it's too late. If I said something now then Kenny would hate me. He's in a lot of pain and he compensates for it by hurting people and doing stupid, dangerous things."

"Like what?" I pry. I want to understand. I hate Kenny, but I still want to understand him. I want to understand what the fuck possessed him to do such a fucking shitty thing. I want to understand why he is the way he is. I feel like I'm trying to understand something that seems virtually impossible to grasp. In a way, he seems so much like the way Craig used to be.

Stan shrugs. "He talks about sex like he's had it a million times and it's just something trendy to pass the time. Maybe, to him, it is... but it's also more than that. So are his reasons behind it. I don't know who he sleeps with; I just know he sleeps around. Throughout the years, me and Kyle and Cartman have had to rescue him from a lot of bad situations. Sometimes it's like he purposefully searches for danger. He probably doesn't even like the people who are fucking him. He just lets it happen. Lots of old men… Like, I know it sounds fucked up but I think it's because his dad treats him like shit, y'know? It's like… because his dad won't accept him he seeks acceptance in men like his dad. He finds it familiar and, in a gross way, it's comforting to him because he feels like he's in his place."

"Oh," I choke out. "That's so fucking… fucked."

"I guess, in a way, Kenny wanted Craig to know what it was like to be hurt badly by someone you love," Stan continues softly. "He did a lot of things to Craig that were done to him – even the thing with the pictures. Kenny has had photos of him put online by asshole guys a couple times in the past. Kyle had to hack into 4Chan and take them down."

"I thought Kenny hated men," I murmur. "That's what he said."

Stan scoffs out a bitter laugh. "That's the self-hatred his dad engrained in his head talking."

"Kenny and Craig…" I muse offhandedly. "They're a lot alike, even without the things Kenny _forced_ them to have in common."

"They're too alike, by the sounds of it," Stan says.


	8. January: A turn of events

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Some grim parts in this chapter, read with caution.**

* * *

Christmas sucked. New Year's was worse. I don't want to sound negative and annoying, but it's true. It was all crap and you can probably guess what Craig did. Yup, he got drunk and cried some more. It's like Kenny broke the dam in his head and now the waterworks keep on coming.

Token, Nichole and Kevin made short appearance. Craig tried to play nice, but it was lackluster and they could tell. Nonetheless, I think they appreciated the fact that he didn't try to verbally attack them. Old Craig wouldn't have had that much self-control.

Right now we're in his room talking. Just talking. We've been doing a lot of that lately – just me and him.

"It's fucked up, isn't it?" he says to me. "Part of me hates him and wants to fucking kill him… but then another part of me is still attached to him. Why…?"

"I don't know," I admit. "Maybe it's because he was your first of many things?"

He lets out a sigh. "I'm a sentimental person, so maybe you're right."

Funny, in a sad way. I never would've pegged Craig as a sentimental guy, but I guess he likes to find meaning in things. I'm kind of like that, too.

Craig has been a bit of a hermit lately. My goal is to at least get a genuine smile out of him by his birthday. His birthday is at the end of the month. He'll be nineteen. He'll be in his last teenage year. It's a big deal, but he probably won't want a celebration. He's going to want it to be yet another quiet day. Even in the past, he was never one for birthdays.

* * *

On the weekend, I let Bebe and Red drag me to a party they were invited to in the rich part of town. Stan, Kyle and Cartman come, too. Naturally, that means Kenny is probably loitering around here somewhere. If I see him, I'll ignore him. At least Craig isn't here. The last thing they need is to be in the same room while drunk. I don't even want to imagine what that would lead to.

I take a minute to glance around the room. I think this is a college party and they're definitely not first years because everyone seems a little older. I hate parties like this. They're usually just giant orgies with everyone fucking indiscriminately during some drug induced haze. I'm sure these kind of parties are full of morning-after regret. Nonetheless, I try to put on a happy face and smile. I drink, I socialize with some girls I've never met before tonight, I drink some more, we dance.

Bebe tries to get Kyle on the dance floor and when she does it's obvious how much he doesn't want to be there. His movements are stiff and awkward. No rhythm, that guy. I guess it's true what Cartman used to say about him and his lack of dance skills.

Stan and Cartman chat with each other, red cups in their hands. There's no sign of Kenny around yet, but I take that as a good thing.

Towards the end of the night I break away from the girls I've been hanging around to go find a bathroom to piss in. All of them seem to be occupied. People are probably just fucking in them.

I move to the basement. It's a furnished, open space with a foosball table, some sofas and a flat screen. There are a few guys down here, but it's pretty barren compared to upstairs. They're watching some sports game on the TV and looking pretty preoccupied.

"Hey, is there a bathroom down here?" I ask, interrupting.

"Yeah," one says offhandedly before jabbing his thumb towards a door in the back of the room.

I open the door and am immediately greeted with an unsavoury sight. "Ugh!" I exclaim, hearing bursts of cruel laughter from behind me. What a sick joke.

Kenny is on his knees sucking some guy's dick. At least he's dressed. When he sees me he pulls away and gives me a dull stare before calmly telling me to fuck off. I do, no questions asked. I shut the door and stand there for a few minutes. I shouldn't be surprised, but I still am.

After a few more minutes the door opens. When the guy Kenny was sucking off leaves, I enter after him and stare down at Kenny where he's seated on the floor.

"What the fuck do you want?" he asks.

"Looks like you're the one that wants to hook up, not Craig," I say, crossing my arms and leaning against the wall. "You told Craig you didn't like men," I point out. "Clearly, that isn't the case."

"Obviously I lied," Kenny states, finally rising to his feet. "I just wanted to make him as upset as I could. I like men… but I don't _like_ the fact that I like men."

Just like Stan said.

"Stop taking your own self-hatred out on Craig," I bite out.

He stands in front of the sink and turns on the taps, lowering his head. He takes the tap water into his mouth and raises his head, swishing it around. He stares at himself in the mirror above the sink, eyebrows drawing together. A split second later, he spits the water out at his reflection and I'm taken aback. Wiping his mouth, he turns away and leaves the room.

When I'm left alone, I finally pee.

Back outside, Kenny is sitting on the arm of one of the chairs with the rest of the guys. They're passing around a bottle of alcohol. No more dick sucking. Maybe he already did his rounds. Yuck. That hardly sounds safe. I wonder if this is why he comes to parties. I wonder if this is why he's always popular.

I shake away the thoughts for now and make my way back upstairs. I end up finding Red again, but I don't tell her about Kenny.

"Where were you?" she asks.

"Peeing," I say.

"Oh," she laughs.

"You?" I return.

"I found a nice boy and escorted him to the nearest empty bedroom for a while," she says with a wink.

"Oh, scandalous," I respond.

She chuckles and then changes the subject to something a little more serious. "How is Craig doing?" she asks. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Yeah…" I murmur. "Everyone is kind of distant lately. He seems to be doing slightly better than he was last month. I think there's a part of him that wishes he could make up with Kenny, though."

Red frowns, nodding her head. "I can understand that. It'd probably be easier on him if things were civil. Then he wouldn't have to be so worried all the time. Kenny can be pretty mean."

"I'll say," I mutter.

We move into the kitchen and I fix myself another drink. I don't want to be sober. It's fine if I drink tonight. I don't have to look after Craig, so I can let loose a bit.

Besides, I need a distraction. I don't want to keep thinking about Kenny. Ugh. It pisses me off.

"What's wrong?" Red asks me knowingly.

"I just have a lot on my mind," I tell her vaguely. It's not a lie, it's just not the entire truth.

She nods understandingly. "Make me another, too," she requests as I mix my drink.

I do so and soon enough we're both sipping stiff drinks.

"Whew!" she exclaims, cringing.

I just smile at her.

* * *

When I go to take my second piss, I end up in the basement again. By now, Kenny is naked and clearly too wasted to be in the position he's in. Not neat. I say nothing at first because I can't find my voice. I just do my business in the bathroom, but once I'm done I find it hard to walk past. He looks like he's only half conscious. His eyes are glazed over and half-lidded while his movements are disoriented. He's shaking and squirming and the entire scene is making me incredibly uncomfortable. He's bruised, but I try to ignore it. He's on his hands and knees, displayed on the coffee table in the center of the room. One of the guys has the neck of an empty beer bottle up his ass and all I can do is turn my head away from the incredibly lewd sight.

"What the fucking hell is this?" I hiss out shakily. Kenny groans when he notices me. He turns away and tries to move, but the hand on his hip prevents him.

"Lift your ass up, McCormick," one guy says. "Wanna get fucked by me or by everyone?"

I feel my heart sink into my stomach and, in unison, my face heats up. "Stop it!" I exclaim with anger and disgust. "He's drunk!"

"So? He likes it."

I decide to intervene. I push the perverted college guy away from Kenny and the bottle falls onto the carpet. I hoist him to his feet and they don't seem to care that their night's _fun_ has been taken away.

"Go away!" Kenny shouts at me. "I don't need your fucking help!"

"Too bad!" I shout back. I gather his clothes from the floor and force him to put them on. He stumbles and his movements are groggy. With a sound of blatant frustrations, I help him put his clothes back on. When that's said and done, I grab him by the wrist and drag him upstairs to the front foyer. I begin sifting through jackets, trying to find his stupid, familiar parka. When I spot it in all its orange glory, I hand it to him. He slips it on as I look for his boots. I don't even know what the fuck I'm looking for. "What kind of shoes do you have?" I ask him.

He rubs his eyes and shrugs. When I'm about to blow my gasket, Bebe appears like a fucking angel floating down from heaven.

"Bebe!" I exclaim.

"Hey, guys!" she greets. "Leaving?"

"Yeah," I say with a nod. "What kind of boots does Kenny have?"

"Timberlands," she says. "They're pretty worn out…" she trails off and starts helping me look as Kenny sits on the floor. "Hey…" she whispers once he's out of earshot. "What the hell are you two doing together?"

"I'm taking him away from here," I whisper back. "I'll fill you in later."

"All right," she relents easily. "Ah, here they are!" She picks up a pair of old Timberland boots and then kneels in front of Kenny, helping him slip into them before tying his laces. After that, she offers Kenny her hand and pulls him to his feet.

"Tell Red I left," I say, holding up my hand.

"Will do," Bebe promises, waving.

After that, I leave with Kenny at my side. As soon as we reach the driveway, he slips on a patch of ice. I turn around and stare down at him. I don't want to feel bad for him because he's such a piece of shit, but I do… I feel fucking awful. He looks so out of it. I help him stand and then I start moving again only to hear him slip again two seconds later.

I let out an impatient sigh. "What the fuck, man?"

"I'm drunk, choad!" he shouts justification at me.

"I'm more than aware," I point out bitterly. "Trust me. Your little display earlier proved that."

Kenny pauses for a moment and then his eyes widen, like he's just realizing what he put himself through. Maybe he just forgot. A second later he starts to cry. He's either a really good actor or he's severely fucked. All I can do is stare awkwardly. I want him to stop, but I wouldn't dare say it. I know how shitty it feels to be told to stop crying.

"Come on," I say, turning around and kneeling down. "Jump on my back."

He does so without protest and I stand up, hooking my arms under his knees. He's definitely heavier than Craig, but he's still easy to lift. I hear him letting out quiet sobs and I feel his breath against my ear. With that, he slumps against me in a way that makes it seem like he's giving up. He tightens his arms around my neck and I feel wary.

"Don't strangle me," I warn him.

"I _won't_ ," he responds sharply.

The walk is silent – uncomfortably so. I don't really know what the fuck I'm doing or why. None of this is my business. It's Kenny's life, right? Why am I making it my business? I don't fucking know.

"Where am I taking you?" I ask him.

"Home…" he mumbles.

"Anywhere else?" I urge. I don't want to take him home – especially not like this. I don't want to return him to his father.

He doesn't answer. So, instead, I simply take him to my house since it's closest. Yeah, it's a stupid idea, but I don't know what else to do. I can't take him home. I'll feel guilty. I'll lie in bed all night thinking about what I may have subjected him to. I don't want that to happen. It's better this way.

The walk is quiet and for that, I'm thankful. When we reach my house, I set Kenny down on the porch and dig my key out before swinging open the door. We both move inside, kicking off our shoes. I hang up our jackets before dragging him to my room.

"Stay put," I tell him. "You're sleeping here tonight, okay? I'm going to bring you a glass of water. Sip on it. There's a bathroom across the hall if you get sick. Do _not_ puke on my carpet."

He sits at the edge of my bed, head in hands. I don't know if he heard a damn word I just said, but I hope he did. I wonder if he even knows who I am right now. I wouldn't be surprised if he had no idea. He seems really fried.

I run downstairs and fill up two glasses of water – one for him and one for myself.

I return to find that Kenny has kicked off half of his clothes. His jeans and hoodie are lying on the floor and he's sitting on a pair of boxer shorts and a t-shirt. I guess it's fine… but I've already seen enough of him to last a lifetime.

"Here." I hand him a glass of water. "Sip slow."

He nods his head, taking the glass. He's being weirdly quiet. Maybe it's because he's humiliated. Maybe he's not simply drunk. Maybe he's also high. I don't fucking know. He could be on a whole myriad of gross drugs.

I sit down on the other side of the bed, taking a long sip of water before setting the glass down. It's quiet again. I glance at Kenny, watching him. He drinks slowly, just like I told him to. I try not to pay attention to the bruises, but I can't stop staring at them. They're clear as day and vividly colored. There is a ring around his neck, almost like someone tried choking him. There is another bruise on his upper arm – large and purple.

After a few minutes, he sets the cup on my nightstand, drawing his knees to his chest. "Why didn't you take me home?" he asks. The words come out slurred, but still decipherable.

"Because I didn't want to take you to your father," I admit. "I know he does more than hit you."

He lets out a laugh that sounds like a sob. "So… you know about that…"

"Yeah, I know about that," I murmur.

"I did more than hit Craig," Kenny says, almost like it's an afterthought.

"Yeah, I know about that, too," I murmur, trying to keep myself calm.

"He never said no even though he didn't enjoy it…" he murmurs, staring at me. "Why didn't he?"

"I don't know, Kenny," I whisper.

He sniffles and lets out a shuddery breath. "I knew I was being too rough, but he never told me to slow down or stop…"

"You scared him," I say.

"I never thought of myself as a particularly scary person," he confesses.

"If he pleaded for you to stop, would you have?" I question him.

He doesn't respond. Instead, he says, "I just… I wanted to know what it felt like… to be in my dad's position… to have power. So, I chose Craig. I chose him because he was mean to me and I thought that would make it easier."

"And it didn't?" I ask expectantly.

"It didn't," he confirms. "I always felt bad. I just pretended not to. I kept playing the bad guy. I acted like my dad. Well… not really. If I really acted like my dad, then Craig would probably be a lot more fucked up than he is."

"Oh," is all I muster up.

Kenny presses his palms to his eyes, sinking into himself. His hands are shaking. He takes in a sharp breath and then I realize he's crying again. For fuck's sake, I feel like crying, too… but I won't. Hesitantly, I shift closer to him and pat his shoulder.

Soon, the shaking subsides. "You're not supposed to care," he says hoarsely. "You hate me. I hurt Craig. You're supposed to leave me to rot."

"Am I?" I murmur.

"Yes!" he insists sharply. "Give me what I deserve!"

None of what he's saying are the words of someone well in mind. He needs help. A lot of fucking help. Surely more than me or anyone else in his life can give him.

"No one deserves the shit you put yourself through," I say and he lets out another string of heaving sobs, looking like a fucking helpless child. "Just go to sleep."

Without another word, he lies down, borrowing beneath my duvet. I kill the lights and lie down next to him, feeling kind of weird about it. He's still making upset-sounds, but I try to drown him out. I just lie here and start mentally listing off all the things Kenny has in common with Craig.

They were both abused at some point in their lives. Kenny is abused by his father and Craig was abused by his aunt's husband… and Kenny. They both like men and have shitty taste. Kenny likes old men and Craig likes bad ones. Yet, at the same time, they both hate men. Kenny said it a little while back and Craig said it the day of exams and many times before that. They are both manipulative. Kenny manipulated Craig and Craig used to manipulate most of the people in his life. They are both abusive. Kenny abused Craig and Craig abused all of his friends. They both drink too much. Kenny loves the booze as much as Craig, but at least Craig doesn't touch the hard shit. They're both in a lot of fucking pain. They both feel alone, even though they're not. They both push people away to make it so. They're both emotionally volatile. They both lash out. It's like Kenny tried to act out what was done to him and he used Craig to do it.

I feel like the list could go on forever. It's strange and scary that they found one another. Even if Kenny never wanted revenge on Craig, their relationship would have been doomed from the start. It's hard to make things work when two people seem to have all the worst things in common… but maybe they could have been friends.

I never thought Craig was evil, even when everyone else did. I guess I feel that way about Kenny, too. He's not a good person, but he's not evil. He's trapped and broken and sick, but he's not inherently evil. Someday I hope he learns from the mistakes he's made. I don't know if Craig will ever forgive him, though. Perhaps what Kenny did can't be forgiven. I'd think not, but it isn't for me to decide. It's for Craig to decide and he can hold a pretty mean grudge. That, I know.

* * *

Morning comes too soon. I spent most of the night lying awake, listening to Kenny mumble as he tossed and turned. He's a restless sleeper. He smacked me in the face a few times, but I know it was by accident. He wasn't conscious, after all, so I can't really blame him for it. Plus, I've hit him enough times to last a lifetime. I wasn't asleep for it, either.

As soon as I wake up, Craig is hovering in my doorway with a look of betrayal on his face. "What the _HELL_?" he shouts.

"Oh, fuck!" I exclaim, jumping out of bed. "It's not what you think!"

Then again, what is Craig thinking? I have no fucking idea.

God damn! Of all the times he could choose to invite himself over it had to be now?

He doesn't wait for me. Instead, he spins around on his heel and runs off. I don't hesitate to follow him, grabbing him by the shoulders before he reaches the stairs. "Please, listen," I try to reason.

He lets out an angry sigh, turning around and leaning against the wall. "I know you didn't do anything with him, dumbass," he mutters. "I was just surprised."

"I'm sorry," I tell him sincerely. "I found him in a pretty bad situation and… Well, I couldn't leave him like that."

"You're a good person," Craig says. "You hate him, yet you help him. You're a _really_ good person."

"It was the right thing to do," I respond.

He shrugs his shoulders, sticking his hands in his sweater pockets. "Your dad let me in… He seemed cranky."

"He always is," I admit. "He'll be leaving for work soon, though. We can go downstairs and talk if you want?"

Craig nods his head lazily and we move down the stairs and into the living room. I sit on the love seat and Craig sits down with me. He lets out a frustrated sigh and says, "I feel really bad lately… like, I really fucking hate myself. No one wants me."

"Don't measure your self-worth based on a thing like that," I tell him.

"It's hard not to…" he murmurs. "We need others to validate us. If they don't, then our personal identity is completely meaningless."

"Well, either way… it's not true," I promise him.

"Yeah," he scoffs. "Right, I forgot about all the assholes that want to fuck me just to put me in my place. Gosh, I sure am lucky!"

Ah. The sarcasm is strong with this one.

"Okay," I say. "Yeah, that's shitty… but you'll find someone new. You'll find someone better. You'll find a guy who will treat you right. Come on, dude. You're young. You're attractive. It won't be hard for you to find someone."

"I don't _care_ that people think I'm attractive," he bites out. "Is that my only redeeming quality? God! I wish I was ugly!"

I wince. I feel like I said the wrong thing. I feel guilty. I used to think his good looks were the only good thing about him. I had a lot of mean thoughts about him. Things have changed since then, but I can't really make up for it. "I'm sorry," I tell him. "If it makes you feel any better, I don't see you for just the way you look."

"What do you see, then?" he asks me. "Why did you stay by my side when no one else did?"

"You're best friend," I start. "You're difficult at times, but you can be sweet at others. You've been through a lot, but you're still moving and that makes you pretty damn strong. We had fun together, even before you lost your memories. Sure, there were some times that sucked but there were also a lot of good times. I've been your friend since we were little kids. I wasn't about to let your attitude get in the way of that. Even when you pushed me away, I'd always stay close enough where you could reach me. I guess I was persistent and annoying at times, but I'm glad I was. You're my favourite person in the world. My sister moved out, my mom died and my dad doesn't really give a rat's ass about me… You're like family."

"And that's why you stayed?"

"Yeah, that's why I stayed."

He nods his head slowly, drawing his legs onto the sofa and pulling his knees to his chest. "I feel like I'm in need of major reassurance lately."

"That's okay," I tell him. "I don't mind giving it to you."

He closes his eyes and lets out a breath before opening them again. "I'm so self-conscious. I feel like I'm being watched and judged no matter what I do. Every time I see someone stare at me I wonder if they're someone Kenny showed pictures of me to. God… I'm just waiting for someone to come up to me and fucking say it."

"If they do, I'll beat them up," I promise him.

He lets out a forced laugh. "Deal."

After that, we hear footsteps coming down the stairs. A moment later, Kenny appears. "Craig," he murmurs a weak greeting before glancing at me. "I'm going to go."

"All right," I say. I have no reason to keep him here.

I watch him grab his coat and slip into his shoes. He shields his eyes from the sunlight once the door is open. He probably has a pretty hardcore hangover.

Once he's gone, I glance at Craig. He forces a smile and says, "I'm fine, Clyde. I'm sorry I've been so lame lately."

"Ah, it's okay," I tell him. "You weren't being lame. I get it."

He wrinkles his nose. "It just… sucks. I know me and Kenny only dated for a few months, but I really did feel like I loved him… and the more I loved him the less I loved myself. By the end, I didn't really have any dignity left. I took a lot of abuse. Then again, who the fuck knows? Maybe it wasn't love. Maybe I don't really know what love feels like. Maybe I didn't love Kenny. Maybe I just loved things about him and things he provided me with. A sense of identity? Belonging? He was so controlling and it was just convenient to become the kind of person he was moulding me into. That's pretty fucked up, though."

"I know," I say softly. "It's not your fault. It's his."

"He brought out the worst in me," Craig continues with a sigh. "I feel like he turned me into a completely different person at times and now that he's gone I find myself trying to get back to the person I was… because, quite frankly, I miss him. I wish I could forget about it."

"Yeah," I whisper.

I wish he could forget about it, too.

* * *

I see Stan and Kyle at Tweek Bros the following day. I wave at them. I don't hate them the way I used to. I don't hate them at all. I guess hate was too strong a word. I order a latte and they end up inviting me to sit with them.

Yeah, things have definitely changed.

"What's up?" Kyle asks as I take my seat. "How is Craig?"

"Uh, good," I start off. "He's doing better, I think."

Kyle nods his head. "Good to hear."

"How's Kenny?" I question. "I had a strange run in with him the other night."

"Really?" Stan cuts in. "He didn't tell us…"

I shrug my shoulders, taking a slow sip of my drink before speaking. "He got pretty trashed. I found him in a bad way, so I took him to my place."

"Oh…!" Kyle exclaims before glancing at Stan and saying, "That's why we couldn't find him."

Stan laughs somewhat sadly. "Right, yeah… We were looking for him. We thought he just ended up going home with some guy who wanted to fuck him or something."

"Nope, just me," I say.

"Uh, what was he doing?" Kyle pries, sounding like he isn't sure if he really wants to know.

"Indiscriminate drunk fucking," I tell him crudely. "It… didn't look like he's was particularly enjoying it."

Kyle pales. "Well… thanks for removing him from the situation," he says sincerely.

"Yeah, thanks," Stan adds. "I mean… he gets into a lot of trouble like that and we can't always keep an eye on him."

"It's not your job to," I point out.

"I know," he says with a shrug, "but we his friends we feel obligated to. I mean, we love him and we want to save him from as much pain as we can. It's just difficult because he usually refuses help. We've tried time and time again to get him out of that house, but he won't leave. I keep telling him to come live with me, but he won't."

"It's hard to watch," Kyle murmurs. "He gets into these situations because they're familiar. It's all he really knows. I feel like I'm watching his father slowly kill him."

I wince. "Yeah… I can't really imagine it."

"I think he hates Stuart deep down," Stan interjects, "but he'll never act on it. He'll never retaliate. He'll just pretend it's love and he'll try hard to convince himself and everyone else that that's all it is. Stuart probably brainwashed the fuck out of him."

"How do you think it will end?" I ask them out of the blue. Maybe it's a cruel question, but I can't help but wonder.

"Whether it's next week, next month, next year or _ten_ years from now… it's going to end with Kenny dead in a ditch if he doesn't settle down," Kyle mutters.

"Or as some guy's pet," Stan adds with distaste.

"Sometimes I think about it…" Kyle confesses, "and I think it would be nice if Kenny could actually manage to find a decent guy who wouldn't slap him around… I mean, a stern guy who could play the 'Daddy' part Kenny craves, but would also be able to treat him nice and be real with him. I don't know. He seems to have a type and that type is abusive. Just like his dad."

"I'm sorry," I tell them both. "I wish I knew what to say…"

"Anyway… just keep this stuff to yourself, okay?" Stan requests. "Most people know Kenny's dad hits him, but they don't know what else goes on… and Kenny probably doesn't want anyone else to know."

I nod my head. "Don't worry, I won't say anything. I promise."

* * *

Soon enough, it's the twenty-fifth. I make my way to Craig's around midnight. I didn't buy him a present. I just got him a card. It's pretty sappy. I wrote a lot about our history, but I glossed over the sad stuff. He probably doesn't want to hear any of that – especially not on his birthday.

We've been friends for ten years. It's crazy when I think about it like that. Ten seems like such a large number. It feels like such a long time. Even though there are things he doesn't remember, I no longer mind.

I invite myself in when I arrive. It's only noon. Craig might still be asleep.

I remove my coat and shoes before walking upstairs. I push open his door and it creaks softly, causing Craig to stir. He's lying in his bed and the room is dim, with just a little sunlight peeking through the curtains.

He sits up and stretches his arms when he sees me. "Hey."

"Hey," I echo as I make my way towards him, sitting opposite to him. "It's your birthday today," I tell him, wondering if he remembered.

"Oh, shoot," he murmurs. "Is it?"

Guess not.

"Yeah," I chuckle. "Your parents will probably have a cake ready in the morning or something," I add, handing him the card.

"Thanks," he says, taking it. "What is it?"

"Open up and see," I tell him and he does so carefully, slowly taking the card out. It's a big messy block of text because I wasn't really thinking about grammar when I was writing it. I just let it all flow out.

 _Craig,_

 _You're my best friend. I might not say it enough, but I love you. I mean that. I'm not really one for letters. I don't do well in school and I'm not particularly eloquent when it comes to speech, but I'll try to convey my thoughts to words. I thought I'd start with a bit of history since there are some things you don't remember. We met in grade three. I thought you were so fucking cool. You sat in the back of the class, looking like you didn't give a damn about being there. I remember thinking I wanted to be your friend. Unfortunately, you didn't seem interested in being anyone's friend. I thought that somehow made you even cooler. Lucky for me, our parents got to know each other. It seemed kind of perfect. Soon enough, we were inseparable. I feel like I've watched you grow and change in so many different ways. We've been friends for a damn long time and I hope that doesn't ever change. I want you in my life. I like having you around and I hope you like having me around, too. I love that you talk to me. In a way, I feel honoured to have your trust. I want you to know that. I want you to feel like you can come to me no matter what. I want you to feel like you can say anything that's on your mind. So, happy birthday and all that._

 _Your pal,_

 _Clyde_

He smiles as he reads it and it makes me feel light because it looks so genuine.

"Happy birthday, dude," I say again.

"Thanks, Clyde."


	9. February: Wherever I may find him

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

* * *

I wake up to the sound of sirens wailing. With a loud groan, I shove my head under my pillow to try and drown out the sound. No luck. Begrudgingly, I get out of bed and pour myself into my jacket and shoes. Yeah, I'm nosy. The entire town is nosy.

I pop outside and follow the sound. I'm not the only one. I feel a pit in my stomach when I realize where the sirens are going. They're going to the poor part of town.

There's a knot in my gut by the time the ambulance parks. They're in front of Kenny's house. There's a crowd. The paramedics move in. Everyone is quiet. Everyone watches. Everyone listens. There's shouting coming from inside. The paramedics move out. Kenny is on a stretcher. His eyes are closed. Not a good sign.

Kyle and Stan appear a moment later, following the paramedics out from inside the house. Stan is crying while Kyle just looks stunned. Their shirts are bloody.

No police. No arrests. This can only mean one thing…

Kenny McCormick tried to kill himself.

 _Kenny McCormick tried to KILL himself._

And maybe he succeeded.

For some reason, I'm surprised. No, beyond that. I'm fucking shocked. I don't know why. I guess I shouldn't be. A guy with that much baggage is bound to break eventually. The whole thing is too fucking sad. I don't know how Craig is going to take it. I glance around the crowd, but I don't see him here.

I watch the paramedics load Kenny's still body into the back of the ambulance and then I watch the vehicle speed away. When it's all over, I walk home and the crowd of nosy neighbours disperses.

* * *

I worried about how Craig is going to react. I wonder if he's already heard. It seems inevitable.

I sit in bed, trying to figure out how to approach this when there's a knock at my door.

Fuck.

I get out of bed and run downstairs, opening the door.

Craig.

"Uh, hey," I greet him, allowing him inside. He takes a quiet step forward and I close the door behind him. Still silent, he slips out of his boots and then hands me his jacket. I hang it up and we move into my room.

"What happened?" Craig asks in a whisper, crossing his arms and eying me where I stand.

"I, uh…" I pause, unsure how to word it. "There was… an accident…"

Wrong thing to say! This was no accident.

"What happened?" he asks again, louder this time. "What happened? WHAT HAPPENED?" He moves forward, grabbing my shoulders, shaking me and pleading for answers. He lets out a sob because he already _knows_ the answer, yet he keeps asking. His slumps forward, pressing his head against my chest.

All I can say is, "I don't know. I don't know the whole story. I don't know if he's alive. I don't know if he's dead. I don't know why he did it. I don't know."

He lets go of me and distances himself. "Yeah… I know you don't know," he admits. He closes his eyes and a few tears squeeze their way out.

"I'm sorry," I offer sincerely.

He lets out a shuddery breath. "All around town everyone is already talking about that _poor McCormick boy_ ," he murmurs hoarsely. "I heard the sirens. I knew it wasn't going to be good news… Do you think he'll live?"

"I don't know," I say.

"Do you think he _wants_ to live?"

"I don't know," I say again.

I don't know much of anything.

* * *

I call up Stan later in the week and ask to meet him and Kyle. I spot them as soon as I walk into Tweek Bros. They both look haggard and exhausted. They're probably completely drained.

"Please, tell me he's alive," I whisper desperately as I sit across from them.

"They put him in a hospital," Stan says mechanically. "He won't be leaving any time soon."

"Ah," I murmur, letting out a sigh. "So… it's that kind of hospital."

Stan nods his head slowly. "Yeah, it's that kind of hospital."

"At least he's away from his dad," I respond. "How did it happen?"

Kyle shakes his head, letting out a long sigh. "He cut himself and then OD'd after taking a drug cocktail and screaming about how he was sure someone was going to kill him," he says tersely. "The only one trying to kill him was himself. I guess he had some sort of episode. The whole thing is really fucking sad. He went nuts. There was blood everywhere… He cut himself before we arrived and when we got there he was digging his fingers into all the wounds like he was trying to open them up even more. He lost a _lot_ of blood. I have the same type as him, so we did a transfusion on our way to the hospital. The only reason he's alive is because he called us. I guess he was saying goodbye without actually saying it. He said thank you instead. I don't know what for, though. We knew something was wrong by the way his voice sounded, so we went over and saw that he just… snapped. I don't even think he knew who we were when he was there screaming at us. He really, really lost it."

"Not his fault," Stan reminds. "I think most people would lose it if they were subjected to something so fucking shitty and then forced to relive it."

Kyle looks guilty. "He was sick… and none of us noticed when he started to go off the deep end. I never thought he'd try to kill himself… I thought, if it happened, it'd be someone else…"

"Sorry," I cut in. It's fucking sad. I feel bad for him and I think he's shit at the same time, but I don't hate him anymore. I guess things change when you begin trying to understand people. Anger melts away. Pity appears. I don't know which is worse. No one wants pity. Kenny didn't deserve what his dad did to him. I just hope that he comes out a better person.

"I don't care what he thinks he's going to do when he leaves," Stan bites out. "He's not going home. He's never going back there, even if he wants to. He's coming to live with either me, Kyle or someone else. He can't be left alone."

Kyle nods his head in agreement. "It'll be a really fucking long road… Y'know, I don't know what'll happen to him. I don't know anything about this. Can he get better?"

"Everyone can get better," I tell him gently. "They just need to be ready."

"I don't know if Kenny ever will be ready," Stan admits, voice breaking. "That's the point of it, I guess. If you're never ready, you never get better…"

"Maybe," I relent quietly.

"I'll visit him a lot," Stan vows. "I won't forget about him, no matter how long he's in there."

"Me, too," Kyle promises.

They both sound like they're about to cry. I wouldn't blame them if they did.

* * *

The following day, I decide to visit Kenny before work. There are things I want to ask him. There are things I want to tell him.

I go to the mental hospital and I ask to see him. They lead me to a dim room and then leave me. I move to the farthest corner and open the curtains up, letting some light in before glancing at the figure in the bed. He's strapped down, but wide awake. His eyes are open and he's staring up at the ceiling. He isn't moving at all apart from the slight rise and fall of his chest. He's wearing one of those pale, blue hospital gowns and I can see thick bandages covering both his arms. So, that's really how he did it…

"Kenny?" I say his name in a questioning tone.

Nothing. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence.

Is this what mind break looks like?

I swallow harshly, moving to the side of his bed. "Come on…" I murmur wetly, giving him a light pat on the cheek as I hover over him. "Say something… Come on, fucking say something!"

Still, nothing. He doesn't even blink. His eyes are just wide as saucers as he stares at what looks like nothing in particular. I guess there's nothing left inside.

I let out a shuddery sigh, distancing myself before leaving the room. I run out of the hospital and back to my car. I feel like throwing up, but I don't. Instead, I sit in my car and cry for a few minutes with my forehead against the steering wheel. I don't even know why the fuck I'm crying.

I'll call Craig when I get home. He'll probably be relieved. Then again, maybe he won't. I'm not sure if this is better than death or worse.

* * *

Craig doesn't react when I tell him Kenny lived. He doesn't ask for the details and I don't bother giving them to him. Maybe he knew. Maybe he just had a feeling.

"So, you went to see him…" he says.

"Yeah, I did."

"Was he in rough shape?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say, but I don't give him the details. I don't think he wants them.

As I suspected, Craig simply nods his head. He doesn't pry for more.

Come evening, I walk Craig to Bebe's. Red and Jason are also there, but no one else. Tweek must be working.

Craig is sweet and soft spoken the entire time, if a little permissive. He apologizes profusely to everyone for being reclusive, though he doesn't owe them any more apologies if you ask me.

No liquor tonight. Instead, we just watch movies. Bebe chooses. So, we watch _Stand by Me_.

I'm sitting on the love seat with Craig while the others are on the three-seater. Craig watches the screen the entire time, but I just watch him and stare at the contours on his face. He looks content – like he's immersed in the movie's plot.

"I can't believe none of you guys have seen this movie before," Bebe says. "It's classic!"

"It's good," Craig says. "I like it."

"Does it have a happy ending?" I ask.

"Well, not exactly…" Bebe admits.

"Aw…" I murmur. "I hate sad endings."

She chuckles at that. "Just watch!"

So, we do.

And for some fucking reason all the damn kids in this movie remind me of the kids in South Park.

When it's over, Craig says he's tired so I volunteer to walk him home. We hug Red and Bebe and then step outside, who seem happy to have Craig back to his kinder self. He's probably putting on a show especially for them.

It's dark outside by now. It's quiet and cold and there are snow flurries falling. The walk is short. When we reach Craig's doorstep, he turns to me. "Goodbye," he says to me before turning away and going inside.

I find it strange that he said goodbye instead of goodnight, but I don't put any stock into it. Instead, I tell him I'll see him soon and then I make my way home.

* * *

I was wrong.

I should have fuckin' known it.

Craig disappears at the end of the month and Laura and Thomas file a missing persons report after three days of nothing. I guess that's why he said goodbye.

I search high and low, but there's no sign of him in South Park. It's causing me to worry. I have a permanent knot in my stomach and I keep thinking about the worst possible scenario.

What if he never makes it back?

Right now I'm sitting at Tweek Bros with Red, Jason and Bebe. Even Kyle and Stan are here, though it's probably more-so for Bebe than Craig.

"I'm the last person to see him," I murmur out of the blue. The words come out airily, like I have no mental energy. "Not Ruby, not Laura, not Thomas… me."

"He probably wanted it to be that way," Bebe says gently, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"He loves you the best," Red adds. "I think you're honestly the only person he trusts."

But I don't want to be.


	10. March: Forgiveness

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

* * *

At the end of the week, I get a phone call. The phone call I've been waiting for.

"Hello?" I answer.

" _Hey, it's me_ ," comes Craig's familiar voice – deep and nasally.

Thank _God_!

"Hey!" I exclaim. "God, where the fuck are you? Everyone is freaking out."

" _Denver_ ," he says.

"Why?" I ask him.

" _I don't know_ …" he admits. " _I'm on a payphone in the Cherry Creek shopping center_."

"Do you want me to come?" I offer. "Say the word and I'm there."

" _Please_ …"

"Give me two hours," I tell him. "Go to Panda Express and get something to eat. I'll meet you there, okay?"

" _Okay… Thanks, Clyde_."

"Don't worry about it," I promise. "See you soon."

I don't bother changing out of my sweatpants. I pocket my phone and grab my jacket, slipping into my boots before running out the door. I get in my car, start the engine and leave town.

* * *

After nearly two hours, I'm parking in front of the mall. I've only been here a few times and none of those times were recent. So, I make a few circles before I find Panda Express. I stroll right in and look around until I see a head of dark hair. There he is. As soon as I spot him, I feel relief settle in the pit of my stomach.

"Craig," I say as I near him.

He turns around, looking relieved to see me. "Hey…"

"Hey," I echo as I sit across from him. "So… want to talk?"

He looks weary and exhausted. "I haven't even cried, you know…" he confesses. "Is that bad of me?"

"No," I promise him.

"I mean, I want to," he says with a shrug. "It just won't come out… Anyway, no… I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay," I relent. "So… did you eat anything?"

"No," he admits. "I don't have any cash."

"I'll get us something," I say, getting up and grabbing my wallet from my coat pocket before ordering. We split a bowl of mushroom chicken. Craig doesn't eat much. He's probably not hungry.

"Sorry," he says out of the blue.

"Don't be," I insist. "Where've you been staying?"

He shrugs. "It's been gross. I spent a few nights at a shelter, but the man in the bed next to mine had hands that wandered too much… Plus, the communal showers make me feel really uncomfortable and some guys get way too friendly. So, after that, I heard about a place where kids crashed. It's kind of a flophouse. There were mostly junkies, but… whatever, it was a roof."

"Shit," I mutter. "That sucks, dude. Why'd you run off like that?"

"I just felt overwhelmed," he says vaguely.

"Was it worth it?"

"No."

With that, Craig starts crying in the middle of the restaurant, attracting looks from nearby people. He places a shaky palm over his face, sobbing quietly into his hand for many long minutes. After a few more, he closes his eyes and forcibly quiets himself.

"Go visit him," I say softly.

He glances up at me with glassy eyes. "I haven't showered in three days," he murmurs offhandedly. "I feel disgusting. I just want to go home and get clean… but I keep hesitating. I didn't want to call you, but I didn't know what else to do."

"Well, I'm glad you did call," I tell him. "I was really fucking worried about you. I mean, shit… You just disappeared. Your parents are freaking out. I was debating on calling them, but you should do it."

He groans, slumping in his seat. "I wish you did tell them… I don't want to."

"Come on," I urge. "Eat a few more bites and you can call them in the car."

* * *

By the time we're in the car, Craig is increasingly silent. I start the car and hand him my cellphone. When he presses the phone up against his ear, I pretend not to pay attention. I watch the road and mind my own business.

Craig's voice breaks. "Dad?" I hear him say weakly. "Can I come home now?"

I imagine Thomas saying yes. I imagine Ruby and Laura's relief. I guess I'm imagining the best. I'm imagining what I want to happen. I'm imagining what should happen and what probably will happen. Craig's parents are good. They love him and they care about him and they're not going to be mad that he ran away for a little while. They're going to understand why he had to do it.

Craig's shoulders start to shake and he lets out a shaky sigh. "Okay," he says before hanging up the phone. He presses the palms of his hands to his eyes, visibly trying to calm himself down.

"What did he say?" I ask as gently as I can.

He lets out a shuddery breath before letting his hands fall to his lap. "He said I could come home."

Just like I knew he would.

"I'm glad," I tell Craig sincerely.

* * *

Craig's parents weren't mad. Of course. They welcomed him back with hugs and warm words. I knew they would. I knew they weren't going to hold it against him. To be honest, none of this is his damn fault. Everything has been out of his control lately. I think that running away was Craig's way of trying to gain some of the control back.

Things have been… better. If that's even the right word. Somehow, it feels wrong.

Mid-month, Craig gets his old job back. He's been trying to piece himself and his life back together. I don't know what changed. I didn't ask. Either way, I'm glad. Maybe he needed to get away for a little while. Either way, I don't think I'll be confessing to him any time soon. Too much has happened. It wouldn't feel right to spring it on him after he's just getting back into the swing of things.

"I keep wanting to go see him," Craig murmurs the confession. "I don't know why."

"You probably still care about him," I point out gently, "and that's okay. You don't have to force yourself to hate him. You can forgive him and move on. Closure, right?"

We're walking around town. It's pretty quiet out, but probably just because the sun is going down. All the kids are in by now.

"I know," Craig says with a shrug before shoving his hands back into his pockets. "It's hard, I guess. I mean, I don't want to forgive him but at the same time I do… does that make sense?"

"Yeah, I understand," I tell him sincerely.

He's probably tired. He probably feels a whole slew of conflicting emotions in terms of every aspect of his life. I can't really imagine what that must feel like, but it's probably hell.

He lets out a breath, staring down at the slushy ground. "I wish things went differently. I keep wishing that and I know it's fucking pointless because you can't change things that have already happened."

"If you want to visit him, I can take you," I promise him. He's been cussing a lot more. It feels almost strange to hear because I got used to him being so… permissive and polite. I guess it's a good thing, though.

"Soon," he murmurs.

I nod my head lightly. He has time to decide what he wants to do. Kenny isn't going anywhere for quite a while.

* * *

I walk Craig home and he invites me inside. We go to his room and he plays with Ruby's cat as it rolls around on his bed, bearing its belly.

"Is it bad that I want another boyfriend?" Craig asks me.

I frown at that. "Honestly, I thought you'd want to spend some time being single after this mess with Kenny…"

He shrugs his shoulders. "I don't know," he murmurs. "I guess it's not healthy, but I just want something new so I can forget about him. I want to move on and I want to do it with someone else."

"Yeah," I say quietly. I don't really know what to tell him. I don't know whether or not it's healthy. "Just don't rush into anything, y'know?" I add.

"I know," he says, but I don't think he does. "I want to visit Kenny and get closure and all that shit first."

"Yeah, that's a good idea," I tell him.

"You'll come with me, right?" he asks.

"Of course," I promise.

* * *

The following week, Craig tells me he's ready. It happens out of the blue, so we both get in my car and we ride to the hospital. The drive is perfectly silent.

"Nervous?" I ask him as we get closer.

"Strangely, I'm not," he admits.

More silence.

When we arrive, we park and I follow Craig into the lobby. He approaches the front desk, asking to see Kenny. We're made to wait for a little while.

"Can you come with me to see him?" Craig asks.

"Of course," I say.

When an orderly finally comes to get us, we're led down a hallway and to an open door. The nurse allows me and Craig to step inside first before following us. It's dark and quiet.

"Mr. McCormick, you have visitors," the orderly says sweetly, moving across the room to open his curtains. "It might be nice to let some light in here, huh?"

Kenny doesn't respond. He is lying in bed, still as a board of wood. He's wearing plain-colored hospital pyjamas. At least he's out of the gown. He looks better than last time, but he still doesn't look himself. He's usually animated, enthusiastic, full of life… Now he's empty. He stares up at the ceiling blankly and he looks like he's still fucking catatonic. His eyes are wet and he looks so fucking miserable. I just keep hoping that the doctors are actually doing something to help him. I mean, everyone seems nice, but I can't really know. I'm not in his position.

"Hey," Craig says in the softest voice, nearing his bedside.

I stand near the doorway and lean against the wall with my arms crossed. I feel weird being here, but I promised Craig I would stick around. Still, I feel out of place. I feel like I have no right being here and listening to their conversation.

When the orderly is gone, Kenny finally speaks. "I did it on purpose, y'know…" he says hoarsely. For some reason, I'm relieved to hear him talk.

"Yeah," Craig whispers.

Kenny lets out a sob and sniffs loudly, bringing an arm up and unceremoniously wiping his nose. "I don't want to be here… I don't want to be _anywhere_."

"Yeah," Craig whispers again.

Part of me wonders if Kenny is sorry. He doesn't say it, but he could be. Craig would forgive him. I know he would. He'd say it, even if he didn't feel it at this point because he knows that someday he will. Besides, Kenny needs this. He probably sees that, too.

"It's okay, you know," Craig says out of the blue, almost as if he's having the same thoughts as me.

"No, it's not…" Kenny murmurs wetly. Tears fall down the sides of his face, but he doesn't make a move to wipe them away.

"Why'd you do it?" Craig asks.

"Revenge… self-hatred…" Kenny muses. "I wanted you to know a little how I felt. It was hard… because you always gave me that doe-eyed deer caught in the headlights look. I felt like I was hurting something innocent and it all backfired."

"Oh," Craig says quietly.

"I didn't show the pictures to anyone else," Kenny admits out of the blue. "Just my friends plus Clyde… I know I said I showed more people… but I didn't really. I just… wanted to make you think I did so you'd feel bad. That also backfired and made me hate myself even more."

"I'm not the person I used to be," Craig tells him, "and I'm so, so, so sorry that I hurt you."

"I know," Kenny whispers. "I forgive you."

"I forgive you, too."

Kenny closes his eyes. "Did you love me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Craig answers simply. "I just did. You were my first of everything."

"I'm sorry for that," Kenny finally says. He sounds so fucking tired, like he's given up. Maybe that's why the apology is finally coming out. He has nothing left.

"Yeah, me too."

Craig doesn't linger after that. He turns away and leaves without another word.

"Y'know…" Kenny starts, glancing at me and sitting up. It makes me wonder if he's only playing dead for the staff. "I only showed the pictures to you because I wanted to make you jealous."

"Why?" I ask flatly.

"Because you love him," he murmurs, letting out a sigh like the answer should be obvious to me.

"How do you know?" I wonder.

"I just do. I know lots of things."

I don't bother responding to that. I simply turn away and catch up with Craig. He's moving down the hallway by now on steady feet. He doesn't look angry or sad or anything bad, really. He just looks calm.

"Did you really love him?" I wonder as we make our way out of the building and into the sunlight.

"Who knows?" Craig murmurs.

"You could have lied," I tell him.

"But I didn't," he says with a shrug. "I'm not really sure why."

I simply nod my head, though it makes me worry. It puts knots in my stomach. I don't want him to ever go back to Kenny or anyone like Kenny. I want Craig to want more for himself. He deserves more. He's not a bad person. He's a good person who deserves good things. If only he could see that.


	11. April: Life goes on

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Sorry if it's confusing that there are two Kevins in this fic – McCormick and Stoley :b There are a weirdly large number of Kevins in South Park.**

* * *

University students are finishing up the term. Everyone will be coming back to South Park soon enough.

It's weird. I just turned another year older. We're all getting older. It's not just weird – it's scary, too. I feel like I'm still a stupid kid. I'm clueless with the way the world works. I barely know how to pay my phone bill. It's going to suck having to learn all about credit scores and all the other important shit that school doesn't teach you.

I had a birthday party. Well, Bebe had a party for me. It was a surprise party. I had no fucking idea. Craig walked me to Bebe's house and everyone was gathered at her house. When we walked in, they shouted, "Surprise!" I was definitely surprised. I half expected it to be a quiet day, one where I spent a lot of time with myself. It was nice, though. It made up for the fact that my dad completely forgot. So, we all got drunk and I got a lot of presents. It made me feel like I was... Well, _liked_.

Craig was the only one who didn't get completely trashed. He stayed coherent. Towards the end of the night, when things got quieter, he took me aside. He ended up pecking me on the mouth and when I questioned his advances, he insisted it was simply a friendship kiss and that he was sorry for causing me grief - especially last month. Naturally, I forgave him. Not that there was really anything to forgive. If I was in Craig's position, I'd probably react similarly… or maybe worse. I'm a lot more emotional than he is and if I'm overwhelmed and it pretty much always gets the best of me.

It's been a few days since then. I've been working a lot. So has Craig. I've been working hard to save my money. Soon enough, I'll be able to leave my dad's house. I'll be able to make it on my own. No more going back.

After my latest shift, I come home to see Craig in my living room.

"Hey," I greet him.

"Hey," he says.

"How'd you get in?" I ask, knowing my father isn't home. He rarely is this time of day.

"Spare key under the rug," he tells me. "The most obvious spot."

I just smile and shrug before kicking off my boots and hanging up my coat. "Can I get you anything?" I ask him as I move into the kitchen. He shakes his head, but follows nonetheless. I get myself a glass of water and we sit at the kitchen table. "So, what's up? It's been a few days. What have you been doing?"

"Not much," he says carelessly. "Work…"

"Same here," I snort. "Boring stuff."

He nods his head lazily. "I guess it's good, though. It's harder for me to get in trouble if I'm working all the time."

I smile again, though this time it's more piteous. "I guess so," I admit. "Are you afraid of getting into trouble?"

"I'm afraid of a lot of things," he says. "Funny, people tell me I used to be fearless… but I don't think I ever was. I think I just hid things better and now I can't."

"Probably," I murmur agreement.

"You know things about me, don't you?" he asks me. "I mean… you know things I don't know… things I don't remember?"

"Yeah," I admit.

He stares me dead in the eyes. "Why was I such a tit?"

"I'm not supposed to tell you," I say quietly.

He scoffs at me. "What the fuck do I have to lose, Clyde?"

Nothing.

He has nothing.

So, I relent. "Someone hurt you when you were little."

Craig nods his head, wringing his hands together in front of him on the table. "I thought so…" he says. "How?"

I let out a quiet breath. "It was before we met… and I only know what your mom told me. She told me not to tell you –"

"I don't care," Craig interrupts. "Just tell me what she told you. I have a right to know, don't I?"

I close my eyes for a brief, contemplative moment. "When you were a kid Ruby got sick," I start in a murmur. "Your dad was busy with work and your mom couldn't care for you, so she sent you to Denver to live with her sister for a bit – your aunt. Um… her husband was shit. He smacked you around, raped your aunt and then killed her. You saw it."

"So… you know that much," he says, frowning. "All the dirty details…"

"What?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"Nothing," Craig says, shaking his head.

"You were just a child," I tell him. "It wasn't your fault."

"Turned me into an ass, though," he snorts.

"You probably had, like, PTSD or something…" I say. "I don't know… I don't know much about mental disorders and stuff, but you probably had something."

"Probably," he agrees. "I probably have something now, too."

"Why do you think that?" I ask him.

"Because I'm fucked up," he says. "I can't even blame it all on Kenny. It's just the way I am. I rushed into a relationship because I was scared of being alone and I just wanted someone to care about me. I'm... emotionally disturbed."

I let out a sigh. "Well… either way, Kenny definitely didn't do anything to help the situation. He was a shitty guy and it sucks that he was your first. You deserve someone who knows you… someone who will treat you right."

"Next time I should just look for a guy like you," he says, smiling a small smile.

I smile back, but I don't respond. I can't. I just want to open my mouth and tell him I fucking love him… but I can't do that either.

"I've decided not to drink anymore," Craig says out of the blue. "I mean… eventually I probably will, but I need a long break from it."

"Any particular reason why?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "I just… overdo it. I've been overdoing it a lot lately and it's messing me up. I just feel like shit all the time – mentally and physically. I end up regretting my behaviour and feeling stupid."

I wince, nodding my head. "Yeah, I know what that's like."

As it grows dim, my father returns. We hear the front door open and close, but the footsteps don't come my way. Instead, he goes straight to his office.

"You guys don't talk much, hm?" Craig asks me.

"Not really," I respond.

He stands up and says, "Come on, let's go to your room."

So, we make our way upstairs and round the corner into my bedroom.

"Uh –" I start.

"Don't worry," he cuts me off. "I'm not going to try and sleep with you again."

"That wasn't what I was doing to say, dude," I tell him.

He flops onto my bed, lying down. "What, then?"

"I was going to ask if you were okay," I say simply. It seems like there's something on his mind, something he doesn't really want to tell me. I've sensed that since I saw him sitting in the living room when I got home.

"No…" he responds in a mumble.

"What happened?" I pry, lying down with him.

"I had sex with some fucking loser," he reveals, defeated.

I emit a silent sigh. "Who?"

"I don't know his fucking name, Clyde…"

"He was mean to you?"

"Well… no, but he wasn't nice, either and the whole thing just made me feel bad," he murmurs, finally rolling over to face me. "The entire time I fucking knew it was going to make me feel that way, but I still went through with it… God, I'm so twisted." He lets out a bitter laugh, like he can't believe what he did.

"No, you're not," I tell him.

He closes his eyes. "Whatever," he says with finality. "I just wanna forget about it… God, all of my memories are garbage. My entire life seems to be garbage."

"If you forget about it, you'll just repeat it," I say. "It might sound harsh, but it's true. It applies to all sorts of things. If it bugs you and you don't want to repeat it, then don't forget about it."

Craig opens his eyes and stares at me with discontent. "Fine," is all he responds with before closing his eyes once more. "Just be quiet now. I want to fucking sleep."

"Want me to walk you home so you can be in your own bed?"

"No, it's fine," he mumbles. "I don't want to be there. My parents, Ruby... they'll just ask me questions. I don't feel like answering any of them."

Without another word, I relent.

Craig is so coddled these days. Everyone takes care of him and infantilizes him like there are things he doesn't understand. I feel like there are times when I do the same. Then again, maybe I'm just trying to make things easier for him because I know how fucking hard it must be to start over.

I watch him in the dim light until his breathing evens out and I know he's asleep. Sometimes I'll look at him and feel like my insides are burning. The feeling starts in my toes and warms its way up 'til it reaches my chest. My heart will skip a beat and I'll be breathless. He won't even have to be doing anything special. Sometimes he'll just be there. No smile, no laugh. He'll just be there looking at me or looking off into space at nothing in particular. He'll be there and I'll fall in love even more. It hurts. It's the kind of pain that you read about in books and see in romantic dramas. I feel like he lit me on fire and the flame is slowly devouring me, but before it happens Craig will put it out. He'll say something or do something that gives me the tiniest bit of hope... only to rip it away once again. It's not his fault. I know that. It's mine. I could change things. I could tell him how I feel and then whatever happens would happen. But I can't get out the words so I'll just continue to watch as he bounces from guy to guy, making up for all his lost time. It kills me when I hear about him and any guy who isn't me. It kills me that I didn't get there first. I would have been gentle and kind and all the things Kenny wasn't. I would have made it special because fuck knows Craig is a romantic even if he never says it. I wouldn't ditch him in the middle of the night or run away in the morning before he wakes up. I'd stay by his side throughout the night and when he woke I'd cook him breakfast. I have all these elaborate plans in my head. I have all these things I'd like to say and do for him and it's pathetic because I know it's something that will never fucking happen. We're best friends and when feelings get involved with best friends things get weird. Things can change for the worse. I don't want to wreck things with him. I want to have him forever and if this is all I'll ever have, I want to make sure it stays this way. I can't risk losing him.

* * *

I see Kenny's brother when I'm on my way home from work later in the week. He looks tired. There are bags under his eyes. He has grocery bags in his hand, so I assume he was just at the supermarket.

"Hey," he greets, nodding to me.

"Hey," I respond, nodding back at him.

We stop in front of each other and he asks, "So, how's your friend? The Tucker kid?"

"He's doing pretty well," I say gladly. "He's working a lot. He's still screwing around a bit, but he's not bad. I think it helped for him to go see Kenny and talk to him a little bit. Forgiveness is what they both needed... desperately."

Kevin nods his head. "Good to hear. My brother tormented that poor fucker relentlessly."

"What were they like when they were at your place?" I pry.

Kevin shrugs and lets out a long sigh. "Kind of fuckin' crazy. Tucker would cry a lot, which was weird. He didn't strike me as a crier."

"He never used to be," I tell him. "Things change, shit happens."

"Kenny bullied him a lot," Kevin adds. "For revenge, I guess. That's probably why he was so quick to cry. I'd tell him to stop abusing the poor kid, but he'd just tell me to mind my business. He was pretty awful… monkey see, monkey do… Not that I'm calling Kenny a monkey, but the saying applies, y'know? Sometimes I don't think he even understood what he was truly doing half the time. I think my dad fucked him up so badly that he thinks some of the stuff he's doing was totally normal or warranted. He can't see things the way normal people can because he isn't normal... and I'm not saying it's a bad thing but... I don't know. It's like he had all these vile thoughts and feelings and he wanted a way to let them out, so he used the Tucker kid and tried to convince himself it was justified. A part of life, a lesson, revenge, whatever the hell."

"Yeah," I say hoarsely. "No one deserves that kind of pain. Look… I'm really fucking sorry your dad did all that shit to him and I hope he can recover from it."

Kevin gives me a weary smile and says, "Thanks. Me, too."

"How is Kenny?" I ask.

"Quiet," Kevin answers. It isn't the answer I expected. "I think now is a good time for self-reflection."

I nod my head. Kenny has all the time in the world now.

* * *

When Kevin, Token and Nichole return from their first year of university, we all hug it out at the airport and everyone loads their luggage into my car's trunk.

"We're all gathered at Craig's house," I tell them as we pile into my car. "Everyone's pretty excited to see you guys. It's been ages."

"It really has!" Nichole agrees.

"It's weirdly good to be back," Kevin chimes in.

"Yeah," Token adds. "So, how are things here in South Park?"

"You mean Craig?" I assume. "Well, he's doing okay… better than he was, at least."

I don't give them any detail. It would be pointless to. Instead of waiting for a response, I ask them about school and exams, trying to keep the conversation relatively light. We drive to their houses first so they can drop off their luggage before finally making it over to the Tucker residence.

When we arrive, everyone is all smiles. Since it's early, no one is drinking… yet. I'm sure we'll be pulling out the beers soon enough. We all congregate in the basement and Nichole, Kevin and Token all fill us in on their university experience.

I watch Craig. He's smiling, joining in on the conversation. I can see the dimples in his cheeks. As they all talk and laugh, I slip away unnoticed. I make my way upstairs for a cup of water only to see Laura in the kitchen.

"Hi," I greet her.

"Hi, Clyde," she greets in return. "Need anything?"

"Just water," I say.

"Help yourself."

So, I do.

"Craig is coping, it seems," Laura adds. She seems somewhat relieved, but the parental worry is still present.

"Yeah," I agree as I sip. "He's tough."

"What were they like together?" she asks me out of the blue. I don't have to ask who she's referring to. She's referring to Craig and Kenny. "I asked Craig, but he was vague with his answer."

"They fought a lot," is all I can say. I don't want to lie.

"He hit Craig, didn't he?"

"Yeah," I say. "He hit him and humiliated him."

"If Thomas knew, he'd kill that little bastard," Laura mutters.

I smile bitterly. "Ironically… he really is a bastard. His dad hit and humiliated him for years and when you hit and humiliate someone, they may learn to do the same to others. I think Kenny's been killing himself all his life."

Laura lets out a quiet sigh. "His father needs prison and Kenny needs a hospital."

"He is in a hospital now," I say solemnly. "I went to see him by myself once. He was nearly catatonic. A while later, I went back with Craig. He forgave Kenny on the spot. They talked civilly. It was weird to see after their explosive breakup."

"Craig has a big heart," Laura says sadly. I think she's sad because big hearts often get people hurt.

"Yeah, he does," I agree. "I think they both needed that forgiveness. Craig needs it to move on and Kenny needs it to get well."

Laura nods her head thoughtfully. "I'm proud of Craig."

"Me, too," I say. "He had a really rough year."

And he made it through.


	12. May: For Craig

**South Park © Matt & Trey.**

 **Last chapter before the epilogue~**

* * *

Things are coming full circle. Next month is the month when it all began. Craig's memories have been gone for nearly a year now. At this point, I doubt they'll ever return. So, this is it. The old Craig is gone. I should probably start mourning the loss, but I keep on weighing the pros and cons of the situation. I feel melancholy about it and so, so guilty. I still haven't told him the truth. I haven't told him about the part I played. He deserves to know, but I get so sick thinking about it because I don't want him to hate me again. I couldn't live with it. I want him in my life. I'm selfish when it comes to him. I just want him in general and I think, in some ways, he wants me, too. They just aren't the particular ways I want him to want me. Sometimes I wonder if he's always felt that way. I wonder if I left him, if I really left him, would he have wanted me to come back? Would he have forgiven me for shutting him down when he wanted to talk? What would he have said if I didn't shut him down? What would he have told me? Would our relationship have progressed from there? Would he finally have found someone to trust? Would it have been me?

I just get kind of sad thinking about all the what-ifs because I always want to go back and change things, but I can't. You can't change the past. It's fucking stupid to even think about it, yet I do. I spend so much damn time thinking about it. It's going to drive me fucking nuts one of these days, I swear.

But, really, everything feels relatively normal again. Finally.

Kenny is still gone. Sometimes I hear about him from other people. I never went back to see him. He's not my friend, so it would be weird. I don't think Craig ever went back, either... but something tells me they'll speak again someday. Either way, I can't lie and say I hope Kenny stays away forever. I want him to be okay. I think everyone does. Endless suffering is no way to live.

Everyone else has returned to South Park by now and some are planning vacations. I saw Stan and Wendy holding hands the other day. He looks happy to have her back. Kyle enrolled to the University of Colorado in Boulder to study engineering. I guess one year of fucking around was enough for him. Stan and Cartman are still foregoing school. I guess they're happy working. Jason got a promotion. Tweek is still content at his dad's café.

In other news, Stuart McCormick got arrested for the meth lab in his backyard. Finally. Carol got arrested, too. They'll be gone for a long, long time. After the buzz settled, Kevin took Karen. They live in an apartment near the edge of town. When Kenny finally leaves the hospital, he'll be free of his father's torment. Kevin and Karen will take care of him. Maybe he'll be all right.

Craig has turned into an incredibly melancholy guy. His emotions are a lot voider and he seems like a less intimidating version of his former self long before the accident. He still smiles and laughs at all the right times, but there's something lacking. I can't quite put my finger on it. It's like he's dead on the inside but he's trying to convince everyone of otherwise. Maybe he's trying to convince himself of it, too. He's had a few more indiscretions since last month. He always tells me about them like he's a sinner at confession. It's like I'm the priest and he's coming to me for forgiveness because he feels like what he's doing is wrong. I don't know why it's my forgiveness he seeks. He doesn't need it and even if he did, I'll always forgive him. Maybe it's just forgiveness in general that he needs in moments like those. I always tell him that he has no reason to feel sorry for what he's doing, but if it makes him feel bad then perhaps he should be more selective. It's not my place to tell him how to cope and live his life, even if I disagree with it. I want to keep an open mind. If I close my mind even a bit, he won't come to me anymore. I want him to keep coming to me.

I'm on my way to his house now and I can't help but wonder if there will be another confession. I shake it off for now and shove my hands in my pockets, staring up at the sky. It's still snowing, but it'll start to melt soon and South Park will turn from white to green – always a weird and unfamiliar time of year.

When I arrive at Craig's, I let myself in. I spot Ruby in the living room sitting on a sofa with Karen. They appear to be playing video games, but when they spot me they pause the game and set down the controllers.

I hold up my hand. "Hey," I greet them as they both eye me.

"Hey," they echo in unison.

"How is Kenny?" I ask Karen. I'm not just being polite, I genuinely do want to know.

She shrugs her shoulder. "Kind of shitty. The doctors seem to really care, though. So, I guess that's good. Me and Kevin visit him a lot. So do Kyle, Bebe and Stan. He gets a lot of visitors. I think he likes getting visitors because when he's left all alone he remembers where he is. When he's around friends, things feel more normal for him. The doctors said that we can take him if we keep an eye on him, but I want him to be a little better before he leaves. Kevin agrees. Um… Kenny really wants to leave, but we don't think he's ready. Maybe it's not really for us to decide… I don't know. Neither does Kevin. Neither of us really knows what we're doing. None of it seems fair. Still, we'll wait a bit longer." She sounds frazzled, but I guess that's understandable.

I simply nod my head. "Yeah, it's probably best."

"Yeah," she agrees softly. "Um, I'm sorry… for everything my brother did."

"He never really did anything to me," I tell her. "He just liked getting a rise out of me sometimes. It was mostly Craig he went after… and Craig forgave him for it all."

"I think Kenny needed Craig's forgiveness more than he knew," Karen says.

"Probably," I respond. "I beat him up a few times… but I think he knows I'm sorry."

"Probably," Karen echoes me. "Um, well, my dad is gone… My mom is, too. So, hopefully no one will hit Kenny ever again. Though… my mom never hit him. She just watched it happen."

"That's just as bad," I say softly, adding my opinion. "If you're letting something that horrible happen when you have the power to do something, then you may as well be actively participating."

"Yeah, I think so, too," Karen agrees.

I can't help but wonder if Carol sat around and watched while her husband did other things to Kenny. It seems so grim. How could she carry a child in her for months, give birth to him and then allow him to be subjected to all that torture? I don't understand it. It's too fucking cruel. Then again, maybe Stuart broke her long before Kenny came into the world... or maybe she just spites Kenny for being the proof of her infidelity.

"Um… me and Kevin would tell Kenny to stop being so mean sometimes," Karen adds. "He didn't really listen. It's like… there were times he felt like he was delivering justice or something. He didn't feel wrong about it… but at other times he did. I could tell. In the end, the guilt really got to him."

She probably said all of this about a thousand times. I don't know why she feels like she needs to say it to me, too.

"I know," I say to her. "I went to see him. He expressed regret. It seemed sincere. He said he was sorry, too. I don't really know exactly what part he was sorry about, but at least he said it."

Karen nods her head, staring down at her hands as she fidgets. I can tell the conversation is over.

"Craig is in his room," Ruby says after a long pause.

I nod my head and then go upstairs. When I reach his bedroom, he's standing by the open door.

"I was listening," he admits. His voice is cold and hard.

I shrug and say, "That's fine."

He smiles cynically. "Is it weird that I honestly want him to be okay?"

"No," I assure him. "It just means you're a damn good person with a big heart."

"I should fucking hate him," Craig murmurs, "but I still don't. I mean, I don't think I ever did. Even when he was dumping my stupid ass, I mostly just hated myself for getting caught in his trap. I had a hard time blaming him."

"You didn't d–"

"I know!" he cuts me off impatiently, moving into the room and flopping backwards onto his bed. "Fucking hell, I know, Clyde. I know I didn't deserve it. You've said it enough times. I'm a changed person, yada yada."

I guess I better get used to him grilling my ass all the time yet again. Still, his short temper isn't the worst thing in the world.

"Sorry," I mumble, approaching slowly.

He perches himself up on his elbows, staring at me and softening. "No, it's okay. You've been good to me."

I sit on the edge of the mattress and stare down at him. "It's fine, dude."

"Thank you," he says out of the blue, still staring up at me.

"What for?" I ask him.

"Everything," he says vaguely. "You've done so much – too much. I could never make it up to you… but I want to offer you what you've been offering me. I want to be there for you when you're feeling down. I don't want it to always be about me. You've been giving so much and I've been taking so much. It has to be give and take from both ends. I want to, like, make you happy and shit."

I can't help but smile at that. "You do," I promise him. "You're my best friend… and I fucking love you and I'd do anything for you. You don't have to feel like you owe me anything."

Craig smiles back at me. "All right. I love you, too."

It means so fucking much that he says it back. Even though the context isn't truly what I want, I'm happy to know he feels at least this much. If this is all I'll ever have from him, I'll be okay. I really do love him and I want the best for him, but I recognize that I can't give these things to him. He has to find them for himself.

And he will. I'm sure of it. Someday, somehow, he will.


	13. Epilogue

**South Park © Matt & Trey. **

**Kind of a melancholy ending. It was hard to decide how I wanted it to end. Anyway, ENJOY! I'll be sure to post more angst soon. My next chapter fic will be Crenny~**

* * *

It's been another damn year. It's hard to believe that I'm twenty years old. I moved out of my dad's house last month. I have an apartment. It's small and the building is old, but I don't care. I feel like I've been freed, like I'm finally starting my life in a sense.

I still haven't told Craig that I love him. I haven't told him much of anything.

I tried dating a nice girl, but it didn't work out. Craig has had other boyfriends since then and they've all been a little bit like Kenny. It makes me sad and every damn time he gets his heart stepped on he never fucking learns. Then again, maybe he doesn't want to. Maybe he's just a glutton for this kind of punishment. Maybe that's what Kenny made him.

I see Kenny around sometimes. He left the institution after a total of six months and now he's back on his feet… if you can call it that. He lived with his siblings for a while, but he's moved out since then. He settled down with some old fart who is probably forty-five years old. He's a major redneck – kind of fat and balding, but they're always holding hands. People stare a lot and it doesn't take a genius to figure out what they're thinking. They're trying to figure out why someone as good looking as Kenny is with someone who... isn't good looking. But I guess it's not really our business. It's not our life. Maybe that guy is right for Kenny. Who are we to judge?

Kenny doesn't work. He stays home and plays homemaker all day. Stan says the guy doesn't hit or hurt Kenny, so I guess that's good. He's far away from his father. That is good, too. I guess it's for the best because Kenny is the kind of guy who will always need someone to take care of him. He doesn't just need it, he wants it and he craves it. Then again, he also craves abuse, so who knows if this will last?

If Kenny's happy, then I hope it lasts. Honestly, he seems it. I don't quite get it, but he seems like he's doing okay. I've seen the house he lives in with that man and it looks nice – modest in size, but really nice and warm. It looks like he has a good thing going for him.

Kenny doesn't go out a lot. He mostly prefers to have his friends in. Stan says he worries about people in town talking about him. They do. They still do. Every time Kenny is seen out, people talk. I end up hearing about it. I think it's fucking cruel, the things they say.

Craig always tries to shut people up, but then they throw it in his face by reminding Craig of his history with Kenny. Craig says he's moved on. He waves to Kenny in the rare moments when they see one another. They've mended their relationship as much as they can – as much as it's even possible.

Still, Craig is a melancholy guy. That hasn't changed. There's something so fucking sad about him. It's like he's genuinely unhappy. I guess he has a lot to be sad over, but I hate thinking about where the sadness might lead him. I don't know why he's sad. I don't know if it's Kenny, some other guy, or if it's just all the bad things piling up. I'd like him to talk to me about it, but he won't. Every time I ask, he just smiles at me and says, " _Another time_ ," but that time never comes.

I still haven't told Craig the truth. I still haven't told him the part I played in this whole, big mess. I should, though. I know I can't put it off forever.

Right now, I'm on my way to his house. He still lives with his parents, but he spends a lot of time here. We even share a bed because he hates the sofa.

It's the middle of summer again and it's really damn hot out, even though it's after dark. I'm in a pair of cargo shorts and a tank top. When I arrive at Craig's door, he opens it wearing similar attire – basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt that makes him look small.

"Hey," he greets me, small smile in place.

I hold up my hand before echoing, "Hey."

He steps outside, closing the door behind him. For a few minutes, we walk in silence… but it isn't uncomfortable. It's never uncomfortable with Craig. We go on a lot of late walks like this. The town gets really quiet and it's like we're the only two people in the world. Sometimes kids hang around the lake, but we avoid voices and turn the other way.

"So, got your eye on anyone new lately?" I ask him.

"No, no one new," he responds airily, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring down at the pavement. "I feel like I'm on a bad streak. I don't date any winners. I just date assholes. It's like… I want people to push me around, but I don't. I don't know why I keep doing it because it's killing me."

"I'm sorry," I tell him. "I mean… someday, you'll find someone really fucking nice who will treat you right and you'll be happy with him."

Craig turns his head to glance at me. "Someone like you?"

It's the second time he's said that, but I'm still taken off guard. "Me?" I ask stupidly.

Craig smiles at the look on my face before turning his gaze ahead again. "I was a little flirty with you in the beginning," he admits, "but you didn't ever flirt back. I knew that meant you weren't interested, so I let it go and I moved on."

I curse inwardly at myself for being oblivious. "It wasn't that I wasn't into it… I just didn't know you were flirting. I'm really dense when it comes to that stuff."

"If I wanted to be with you, would you want to be with me?" he asks.

I'm quiet for a moment. I feel like he's providing me with a chance to finally be honest. So, I decide to take it. "I've loved you… for a long, long fucking time," I admit somewhat breathlessly. My heart is pounding because I never thought I'd get the words out. I don't think I deserve to even say them.

Craig's smile turns bitter. "I used to think about being with you a lot. I think it would have been nice that… instead of Kenny being my first you could have been. Well, I think about it a lot still. I'll come up with these lavish fantasies that feel almost real. Then I'll remember that they're not and I feel a bit sad. I know if you were my first instead of Kenny then I'd probably be a lot different. I don't want to admit that he changed me, but he did. It's undeniable. Our experiences are what make us who we are and I've had a lot of shitty ones."

"Yeah," I agree quietly.

We're silent again. We continue walking and it starts to drizzle, but neither of us mind. It rains a lot here in the summer – probably to make up for the lack of snow. At least it's warm, like a bath or a shower.

"It's my fault," I whisper suddenly. "All of it."

Here goes nothing. I can't keep it in any longer. He deserves to know – especially now.

"What?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"I'm the reason you don't remember anything," I confess hoarsely. "I'm… I'm the reason you got in the accident."

Craig stares at me critically before questioning me with, "How so?"

"I did something stupid and we got into a fight," I start with a long and shaky sigh. "I said something really fucking awful…" With another sigh, I begin telling him what happened when we got drunk and what happened the day after.

He's quiet when I'm done speaking, but he doesn't look angry. After a minute, he simply nods his head. "All right," he says. "I'm not mad. I mean, maybe the old Craig would be, but this Craig isn't."

"You should be," I whisper, voice wavering.

"Well, I'm not," he insists before pausing. "Was that the Craig you loved, or do you love this one?"

"I think I love both," I tell him truly.

"So, love?"

"Yeah, love."

Craig stops.

"What is it?" I ask, turning around so we're face-to-face.

Instead of answering, he curls his fingers into my tank top and pulls me until our chests are pressed together. He tilts his head up, staring at me before closing his eyes and it feels like he's giving me permission to do something I've been wanting to do for a long fucking time. I lean down and touch my lips to his – gingerly at first. I feel fucking ecstatic when he starts to kiss me back. My skin feels hot and I feel heavy and nauseous, but in a good way. I lock my arm around him, pulling him closer and closer, trying to soak him up. I'm getting chills and my heart is beating so erratically he can probably feel it. We break apart and both take gasping breaths before reconnecting.

Fuck, I want him.

When we break apart for the second time, neither of us speaks. I offer him my hand and we just continue to walk. There's more silence and I'm left alone in my head, thoughts reeling as my annoying damn thoughts pervade.

"So, you don't hate me?" I ask him.

"I don't hate you," he says softly. "Not even close. I'm glad you finally told me what's been on your mind."

It's dark and warm and the rain is pouring down. We wind up at the park and instead of walking past it, Craig lets go of my hand and passes through the gate. I follow him until we're near the playground. Without saying a word, Craig grabs the edge of his t-shirt, lifting it up over his head.

"Kids play here," I point out, feeling somewhat humored.

"Sh," he hushes me, perching himself on his toes and kissing me once more. "Take off your clothes. We'll do something interesting."

Instead of stuttering out a stupid response, I do as he asks. Part of me is nervous, but the larger part of me is eager.

We stand in front of one another, the rain softening the outlines of our bodies. We stare at each other and I admire the parts of him I never thought I'd get to touch. He really is fucking beautiful.

After a quiet moment, he sits on the bottom of a slide. "Come here," he invites.

I drape myself over top of him and grind against him. He lets out a shuddery breath, locking his arms around me.

Yeah, it's kind of perverse to do this on a playground… but the rain will wash away the evidence.

I stare down at him. His eyes are half lidded as we touch. That's all we do. Just touching. The R-rated kind, but nothing more than that and it doesn't take me long, probably since I haven't had sex in a while.

"That was a weak performance on my part," I tell him. "Sorry."

He chuckles and says, "Don't worry about it, Clyde."

Craig takes much longer, probably because he does this more than I do. I give him sloppy head. I've never done it before, but I seem to be doing something right because I soon feel his cum shoot down my throat. I never thought I'd ever revel in the taste of another man's jizz, but I definitely don't mind the taste of Craig.

"I was anxious," he admits when I raise my head.

I smile at that, leaning down and pecking him on the lips. "It's just me."

"Think anyone saw us?" he asks as I help him stand.

I snicker at the possibility, though it's kind of unsettling. "Nah."

So, after struggling to put our wet clothes back on, we make our way back to my apartment. We trail water through the hallways and shed our clothes as soon as we step inside. I hang our clothes in the bathroom to dry and follow Craig into my bedroom and into my bed.

Instead of simply lying side by side, I put my arms around him. Tonight is a time full of firsts for us.

"What does all of this mean?" I ask him.

"Whatever you want it to mean," he responds.

"What about what you want?"

"I want what you want," he says.

"Then be mine."

"Okay. I'm yours."

"I like the way it sounds when you say it," I tell him. "It's funny. After you seeing me through countless breakups… and after me seeing you through countless breakups… It ends with us."

Craig lets out a quiet chuckle. "It's fitting, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," I agree, smiling to myself.

And maybe he'll start talking to me more. Maybe tell me why he's so sad.

* * *

It's been a few weeks and the weather keeps getting warmer. While South Park may be a damn cold place, the summers get painfully hot. Craig spends most nights with me these days and sometimes these little thoughts will pervade. When Craig is asleep, I'll watch him breathe and pray to God he doesn't wake up with his memories back. I feel like I'm constantly living in fear that he will and he'll hate me for loving him like this or hate me for what I did in the past. Then again, maybe he'd just hate himself... but something tells me he already does.

This Craig is warm and much kinder, though he can still be the opposite. The Craig I grew up with was always cold and cruel. As mean as it sounds, I don't want to have to welcome him back. Not now. I don't want Craig's feelings for me to evaporate. I want things to stay the same. I feel like I'm growing selfish with each passing day I'm with him… but when he asks, I admit that I loved him both ways. Even when he was cruel, I loved him. Even when he was an abusive asshole of a friend, I loved him. I always loved him, but I have a feeling he didn't love me. He'd probably hate it if we were together. If he woke up with his memories back, I'm afraid he'd try and push me away.

But the doctors tell me it's about as likely as a heat wave in December. It's been too long and the more time that passes the less likely it is he'll ever remember his old life. I think it's sad, but I can't mourn forever.

We had sex the day after we humped each other on the playground. I was on cloud nine the entire time. I think Craig was, too. It still feels unreal. The sounds he makes are my favourite sounds. It's like music to my ears – but better.

Maybe we rushed into things, but I don't really care because I feel good about our relationship. I think he does too, but on the grand scale, he's still unhappy. I guess it isn't surprising. I knew that being in a relationship wasn't going to change that. You can't fix people.

When I get home from work I find him in my kitchen. He's just sitting there at the table looking contemplative.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he returns. "How was work?"

I shrug and say, "It was fine."

"That's good," he murmurs airily.

"Craig, are you all right?" I ask, sitting across from him at the table. "You've been kind of down lately… I've noticed. It's like you're only half here."

He tries to smile, but he falters mere seconds later.

"You don't need to pretend around me," I tell him, trying to stress it.

"The last thing I said before the car hit me was that I hated you," he murmurs out of the blue, staring at his hands as they sit folded on the table. His voice shakes and I can tell he's about to tell me what he's been holding in.

"What?" I ask in a deadpan. "I didn't tell you that part…"

He disregards my confusion and continues with, "I want you to know that I didn't mean it… I was just angry and embarrassed and I couldn't really control myself." His voice begins to waver and I can tell he'll be unwillingly welcoming the waterworks at any second. He stands up and begins pacing around the kitchen. "I just remember that I wanted to make you feel the way you made me feel when you shut me down… angry, sad, maybe ashamed…"

I pause, simply staring at him for many long moments.

Then it hits me.

He remembers.

"You remember…" I say stupidly, rising to my feet. "And this is what you've been hiding...?"

"Yeah," he whispers. "I remember. I have for a long time."

"Why'd you pretend?" I ask him, pleading for answers because I really don't understand why he'd put himself through all of this.

He lets out a shuddery sigh, wiping his eyes. "Because you all liked me more when I was friendly and smiled a lot and… when I was nothing like my true self… I didn't want you to stop liking me."

I frown, feeling incredibly sympathetic towards him. "I love you," I tell him with sincerity. "That won't change. It never changed."

He lets out a sob and then completely unravels, staring down at his fidgety hands. "It's hard…" he confesses through tears. "It's hard to keep pretending…"

I move forward and force him to stand before wrapping my arms around him. "Then don't," I say simply. "You don't owe it to anyone, Craig. You've more than made up for past mistakes. You _have_ changed."

And maybe it says something bad about me. I didn't notice he was suffering.

So, I don't talk. I just stand here with my arms around him as he presses his face into my shoulder. I feel my shirt dampen, but I don't mind. Each sound that escapes sounds so fucking pained and it feels like he's crying for hours. I don't mind that, either.

When he quiets, I decide to speak up. "When did it happen?" I ask gently.

"After Kenny broke up with me," he admits hoarsely, drawing away and swiping at his eyes some more.

The confession surprises me, but I don't let it show. He's been himself for a long, long time. That must have made the breakup even more difficult. He must have been feeling every possible human emotion at the same damn time.

I should have known. I should have fucking known. It's around the time when he started swearing again. There were times when he'd slip up, but I always wrote it off. I never guessed… but I should have.

"Shit," I whisper. "I wish I had known…"

"Well, you know now," he says. "And… please don't tell anyone else. They can't ever know."

"All right, Craig," I agree, though somewhat sadly.

"I still feel like I've changed a lot…" he murmurs. "I'm not the person I used to be…" He stares at me intensely, like he's pleading for me to understand.

"I know," I say gently. "I know, Craig. I believe you."

"There were things…" he trails off, pausing. "Some shit happened and it shaped the way I grew up."

"I know that, too."

We move into my bedroom and Craig takes a seat on the edge of my mattress. "I was impressionable."

I sit with him and say, "You were a child, Craig… and you got hurt. It's not your fault."

"I wasn't hurt as bad as my aunt was…" he murmurs. "To see something like that… made it ironic that I'd settle for asshole guys who treated me in a similar way."

"I'm sorry," I sympathize. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He wrinkles his nose, putting his palms on his knees. "I was under the bed hiding," he murmurs suddenly. "It was probably around nine at night, but he drank a lot and he was pissed. I heard him fighting with my aunt when he got home from whatever bar he frequented, so I hid. I didn't want to get in the middle of it. I was fucking praying he wouldn't find me, but he did. I guess the fact that I was hiding from him made him even angrier. He dragged me out from under there and I was kicking and screaming the entire time. He just started beating me and throwing me around the room like I was a doll. My aunt came in and tried to get him to stop, but he didn't want to. So… he did what he did. I didn't really get it at the time because I was so young, but… I knew he was really, really hurting her bad and she was screaming a lot, begging him to take things to their own bedroom because she didn't want me to see. He didn't, though. I was scared he was going to hurt me like that, too. So, I got back under the bed and I waited for it to happen, but it didn't. When he killed her he just started freaking out, like he regretted what he did. But it was too late. She was dead. The cops eventually came after a noise complaint, but I was in the room with her body for a while. Her eyes were open and it was like… she was just looking at me. I wondered if she was sorry… but at the same time, I didn't care. I hated her. I hated her husband. I hated my mom and dad for sending me there. I hated Ruby for getting sick. I hated the cops for taking so fucking long. I hated myself. I hated everyone and everything."

"Yeah," I whisper shakily. I can't really imagine it and maybe that means it's impossible for me to truly understand. So, I don't try to tell him that I get it. Instead, I just add, "I'm always here when you want to talk, no matter what it's about."

"Thanks, Clyde," he murmurs.

After a few minutes, his eyes start leaking again. I don't really know why. Maybe he doesn't either. He lets out a shuddery breath, lying down on my mattress. I stand up and kill the lights before lying down with him.

"How do you feel?" I ask him.

"Safe," he murmurs hoarsely. "I've never really felt that way with any other guy, but I've always felt that way with you – when I was young, when we grew up and even after I lost my memories. I felt safe with you."

I shift closer so his back is against my abdomen. "I'm sorry for all the times I've hurt you," I tell him sincerely.

"I'm sorry for all the times I've hurt you, too," he says, "but we can move past it."

"Yes," I agree. "We can."

Somehow, this feels better. No more lies. No more pretending. He's Craig again – my old best friend. All that lost history has been returned and I'm no longer scared. It's all out in the open now.

This isn't how I thought it would go. Funny, when I accepted that he was gone he returned.

"I love you," I say yet again.

"Someday, I'll say it back," he responds.

"No rush."

I accept Craig and all that he is – the good days, the bad days, the sad days. I'll be there for him through it all, just like I've always been. I love him. I'll keep telling him that, not because I want him to say it back but because I simply want him to know it. I want him to feel it – loved.

 **Fin.**


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